THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


;C' 


S^ 


/rifuii5l)ip'0  Cnktn. 


i 


3.  A.  lOWLAND,  WorcK.c:. 


?1 


iUlENDSHIP^S  TOKExN, 


OS 


THE   nilLirEXA; 


A  PRESENT 


FOR  ALL  SEASONS. 


WORCESTER: 
PUBLISHED   BY   S.  A.  UOVVLAND. 

1852. 


A  y  /  i 


l^^l 


PREFACE, 


We  have  given  the  name  of  Phili- 
PENA  to  this  httle  volume,  because 
that  name,  more  than  any  other,  im- 
pUes  the  design  and  character  of  the 
work.  The  name  is  derived  from  two 
Greek  words,  signifying  love  or  friend- 
ship, and  a  gift  or  token.  To  prepare 
a  neat  httle  volume,  every  way  suita- 
ble as  a  gift  of  friendship  or  affection, 
has  been  the  design  of  the  compiler  of 
these  pages  ;  and  with  the  hope  that  it 
will  meet  their  approbation,  it  is  in- 
scribed to  all  those  who,  in  the  trifling 
gift  of  a  Philipena,  would  keep  alive 
the  flame  of  friendship  and  affectionate 
regard. 


022824 


CONTENTS. 

Page. 

PREFACE, 3 

SOCIAL     LIFE,    OR    THE     PLAINS    OF 

MATRIMONY,         ------         5 

THE    HEART    THAT's    TRUE,      -      -      -      51 
A    SIMPLE    STORY,     ------      52 

FLOWERS,         --------65 

marrying  for  money,    -    -    -    -     66 

the  bride, 79 

a  good  daughter,     -----    80 

daughter  leaving  home,   -    -    -    83 
worth  and  wealth,       -    -    -    -    85 

the  rose-bud,  -------  ]04 

congenial  spirits,    -    -    -,  -    -  105 
the  interval  flower,  -     -    -    -  106 

the  twins,  --------  108 

love's  home,     -------117 

THE    COaUE'l'TE,         ------118 

THE    maiden's    RINGLET,    -      -      -      -    ]20 

RULES    FOR    CONVERSATION,    -      -      -    123 


THE   PHILIPENA. 


THE    PLAINS   OF    MATRIMONY. 

As  the  writer  was  walking  on  the 
great  theatre  of  the  world,  among  other 
curiosities  in  earth,  air  and  water,  I 
discovered,  situated  between  two  very- 
high  mountains,  a  great  phiin,  far  wider 
and  longer  than  the  most  extended 
prairie  of  the  west.  It  appeared  to 
have  been  originally  a  very  fertile  soil, 
as  it  was  placed  in  a  part  of  the  globe 
I  where  all  the  powers  of  nature  com- 
!  bined  to  make  it  the  most  delightful 
I  region  of  the  whole  earth,  and  produc- 
tive of  every  healthful  and  fruitful  plant. 
But  in  the  midst  of  these  advantages, 
greatly  to  my  wonder.  I  saw  the  phun 
was  but  miserably  cultivated,  and  tlieir 
fields  poorly  fenced,  although  its  inhab- 


I 

6  PHILIPENA,    OR  '    . 

itants  were  very  numerous.  There  was 
a  ureal  growth  of  tl)e  briar,  the  prickly 
thorn,  and  the  perplexing  thistle.  A 
lew  only  ofthose  deiightiul  fruit-bearing 
trees  and  plants  which  were  the  origi- 
nal production  of  the  plain  were  to  be 
seen.  Seeing  the  country  so  well  calcu- 
lated to  sustain,  in  its  original  formation, 
a  rich  and  prosperous  settlemiut,  but 
occupied  by  so  improvident  a  race,  ex- 
cited in  me  a  curiosity  to  inquire  the 
reason. 

In  casting  over  this  region  a  scruti- 
nizing glance  from  where  I  stood,  which 
was  on  an  elevated  rock  overlooking  the 
plain,  I  discovered  that  the  entrance  was 
quite  narrow,  and  that  a  wall  exceeding 
high  and  difficult  to  be  got  over  connect- 
ed the  points  of  two  mountains,  which 
divrrgt'd  away  farther  than  the  eye 
could  reach,  rising  in  broad  and  mighty 
i.nd Illations  in  the  immense  distance. 
In  this  wail,  which  I  perceived  was  for- 
tified on  the  top  with  long,  sharp  spikes, 


friendship's  token. 


there  was  a  small  gateway  or  entrance 
through  the  wall,  just  wide  enough  for 
two  persons  comfortably  to  pass  at  a 
time  to  the  great  plain  bej^ond.  But  not- 
withstanding this  singularity,  I  noticed 
that  in  some  instances  more  than  two 
had  attempted  to  pass  this  gate  abreast ; 
but  this  attempt  had  always  been  attend- 
ed with  such  horrid  consequences  that 
but  few  of  later  years  had  undertaken  it. 
Another  singularity  in  this  gate  or 
door  was,  that  although  two  could  walk 
through  abreast,  yet  one  could  not  enter 
alone.  I  also  soon  discovered  that 
those  who  entered  upon  the  plain  could 
never  consistently  return,  during  the  life 
of  the  one  or  the  other  of  the  pair. 
On  drawing  near  to  the  gate,  I  soon 
discovered  a  very  great  crowd  of  young 
people,  precipitately  rushing  through 
the  gate,  two  by  two,  into  the  plain  ;  and 
it  is  hardly  possible  for  me  to  convey  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  curiosity  it  wrouglit 
m  me,  what  all  this  should  mean. 


PHILIPENA.    OR 


But.  to  relieve  the  anxiety  ol' niy  mind, 
I  got  as  near  to  the  gale  as  1  couhl  for 
the  crowd,  and  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
steps  ol"  the  great  pillar,  where  I  soon 
discovered  a  curious  seat  on  the  right 
side  of  the  path,  on  which  was  written — 
"  Tiie  Seat  of  Consideration  ;"  to  which 
seat  I  saw  there  was  an  ascent  of  three 
steps ;  at  tiie  bottom  of  which  stood  a 
column  or  pillar,  of  a  very  ancient  date, 
having  on  it  this  inscription,  which  was 
still  quite  legible,  and  read  as  follows: 
"  Ponder  the  paths  of  thy  feet,  and  ail 
thy  goings  shall  be  established."  Af- 
ter reading  this  inscription,  I  surveyed 
again  the  steps  with  much  attention, 
and  perceived  that  on  the  first  was  writ- 
ten— "  Slep  with  moderation  and  great 
care."  I  then  cautiously  ascended,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  examine  the  second 
step,  and  saw  that  on  it  was  written, 
very  plainly — "  Examine  your  nu)tives 
of  action,  and  duly  weigh  the  conse- 
quences of  your  undertaking."     1  then 


friendship's  token.  9 

went  up  so  as  to  look  at  the  third  step, 
and  found  written  there  tlie  following 
important  sentence — "  There  is  no  solid 
pleasure  v/ithout  love." 

I  now  sat  awhile,  in  great  w^onder 
what  all  these  things  could  mean  :  I 
viewed  the  plain,  then  the  mountains 
and  the  wall  that  fenced  it  in  ;  I  looked 
at  the  pillar,  which  was  very  high,  and 
then  at  the  steps,  with  all  the  curious 
inscriptions  on  them.  I  now  began  to 
watch  the  crowd,  who  were  pressing 
in  such  multitudes,  male  and  female, 
toward  the  gate  which  opened  on  to  the 
great  plain  beyond  me,  trying  if  possi- 
ble to  find  out  their  object,  in  all  this 
hurry  and  anxiety  to  get  in.  I  had  not 
watched  them  long,  however,  when  I 
saw  a  couple  a  little  more  moderate 
than  the  rest  in  the  crowd,  who  came 
very  near  the  steps  by  the  side  of  the 
way,  where  I  sat.  I  inquired  of  tJiem 
the  name  of  the  plain,  the  meaning  of 
the  wall,  the  gate,  &c. ;  they  smiled  at 


10  PHILIPENA,    OR 


my  ignorance,  asking  if  I  were  a  stran 
ger,and  then  said,  "it  is  the  great  plain  of 
social  life,  or  the  place  to  enjoy  the  mar- 
riage union,  and  the  gate  is  Wedlock." 
This  information  clearly  unfolded  the 
mystery  of  the  crowd,  explaining  to  my 
mind  a  number  of  the  singularities  of 
the  passage  to  the  plain ;  and  particu- 
larly why  two  only  could  enter  consist- 
ently at  a  time  ;  and  why  one  could  not 
enter  alone,  whether  male  or  female. 
Having  made  this  discovery,  namely, 
that  marriage  was  their  object,  there 
was  still  another  secret  to  be  unriddled, 
which  I  had  to  spell  out  as  well  as  I 
could,  by  listening  to  what  they  said  as 
they  went  along,  and  by  watcliing  their 
countenances  and  actions.  From  these 
indications  the  reader  will  not  be  sur- 
prised, when  he  has  read  the  whole 
story  and  the  jirinciples  that  actuated 
them,  that  I  have  judged  as  I  have 
concerning  these  young  people  who 
went  through  the  gate. 


friendship's  token.  11 

There  were  some,  I  observed,  who 
were  rushing  to  the  gate  merely  from 
custom,  wishing  to  enter  on  the  plain 
because  others  did ;  fancying  it  would 
be  a  disgrace  to  them  if  they  did  not 
do  like  the  rest  ;  being  exeeedingly 
anxious  to  be  considered  fashionable. 
There  were  others,  who  appeared  to 
be  without  a  home,  or  a  father's  house, 
or  any  steady  place  of  dwelling.  These 
concluded  that  were  they  to  enter  on 
the  great  plain  they  could  find  this 
home,  and  even  though  it  were  a  poor 
one,  it  must  be  better  than  none  ;  so  on 
they  went.  There  were  others  who 
seemed  to  be  urged  on  merely  by  their 
wills — having  taken  offence  at  some 
individual,  or  from  the  opposition  of 
friends,  as  they  supposed  ;  these,  there- 
fore, looking  quite  fierce,  and  pouting 
as  they  went,  rushed  through  the  gate 
into  the  great  plain,  gratifying  their 
wills  in  spite  of  all  resistance. 

I  also  saw  there  a  character  who  it 


12  PHILIPENA,    OR 


appeared  had  been  on  the  great  plain 
before,  but  had  come  back,  on  account 
of  death  having  separated  her  from  her 
mate.  This  one  appeared  very  un- 
happy, as  there  walked  by  her  side  one 
or  two  or  more  small  children.  These 
some  i>iends  took,  and  put  in  a  certain 
kind  of  house  called  an  asylum  for  the 
poor ;  where,  after  a  while,  the  parent 
knew  they  were  cruelly  treated,  and 
yet  could  not  relieve  them.  Not  long 
I  after  this,  I  saw  a  person  approach  the 
■  suffering  parent,  who  was  not  an  equal 
in  good  sense,  good  breeding,  nor  in 
,  understanding,  and  withal  hateful  to 
look  upon  ;  who  said,  ''  Please  to  go 
tlirough  the  gate  with  me."  But  the  re- 
ply was,  "  No,  oh  no,  'tis  impossible ; 
we  should  not  be  happy;  your  ways, 
looks  and  everything  disgust  me  beyond 
measure."  Here  I  shw  several  friends 
rush  towards  them  and  force  them 
through  the  gate,  saying  it  is  good 
enough — there  will  be  a  home  for  your 


13 

children;  so  they  went  in,  while  the 
discontented  one  looked  pale,  unhappy 
and  despairingly.  "  My  God,"  said  I, 
''  what  a  pity  !"  for  that  was  too  great 
a  sacrifice — the  wooer  being  a  terwards 
found  to  be  all  but  a  fool ;  which  pro- 
duced agony  and  sorrow  indescribable. 
There  was  one  in  a  similar  condition, 
who  had  taken  a  mate  who  was  cruel 
and  ferocious  in  his  nature.  When  I 
saw  this,  I  had  my  fears  as  to  tlie  re- 
sults of  this  marriage. 

There  were  some  who  appeared  to 
look,no  further  iii;t;  to  personal  beauty, 
and  to  a  show  of  dress  and  parade, 
while  they  were  strangers  to  love. 
Others  looked  at  the  honorable  birth  of 
their  partner,  making  a  great  name 
their  only  object,  without  thinking  love 
was  necessary  to  make  even  the  rich 
and  the  honorable  happy.  Some  ap- 
peared to  be  of  a  discontented  make  ; 
and  finding  many  trouhles  in  a  single 
life,  fancied  that  were  they  to  marry. 


14  PHILIPENA,    OR 


they  should  get  rid  of  these  perplexi- 
ties, by  their  mutual  assistance  in  man- 
ual labor ;  seeming  not  in  the  least  to 
comprehend  that  love  must  accompany 
them,  or  their  perplexities  would  be 
greatly  increased  instead  of  diminished. 
This  kind  entered  into  the  great  plain 
on  much  the  same  principle  that  one 
would  buy  an  ox,  or  a  horse,  merely 
with  an  eye  to  a  good  bargain :  I 
wondered  at  this,  on  account  of  its  sur- 
passing stupidity.  But  these  jogged  on 
somewhat  slower  than  many  others, 
and  soon  were  out  of  sight  on  the  great 
plain. 

Among  the  multitude,  I  saw  two 
coming  on  toward  the  gate,  who  were 
of  different  nations ;  one  was  white  and 
the  other  was  black  or  red,  or  some 
such  complexion,  as  nearly  as  I  could 
see.  Those  slipped  along  in  a  kind  of 
sly  manner,  and  the  first  I  knew  they 
were  in  and  off,  and  out  of  sight  in  a 
twinkling.      I    wondered    what    made 


friendship's  token.  15 


them  in  such  a  hurry,  the  reason  of 

which  we  shall  give  by  and  by. 

There  was  another  class  stimulated 
by  motives  almost  too  sinful  to  mention  ; 
indeed,  nothing  but  its  being  so  great 
an  injury  to  truth  prevented  my  passing 
it  over  in  silence.  The  truth  is,  they 
were  urged  on  wholly  by  the  love 
of  connubial  pleasures;  these  wanton 
flames  were  easily  discovered  flashing 
from  their  eyes,  burning  on  the  cheek 
and  brow,  which  precipitated  them  on- 
ward with  great  force,  producing  as 
they  went,  acts  of  impropriety  on  the 
way;  who  seemed  not  to  know  that 
love  is  very  far  off  from  the  possession 
of  this  kind  of  excitementT  There  was 
another  circumstance  attending  this 
great  concourse  of  human  beings  ;  and 
this  was  the  appearance  of  now  and 
then  a  straggling  individual  far  in  the 
back  ground;  seeming  to  grope  his  way 
alone.  Now  and  then  he  would  cast 
an  eye  toward  the  great  plain,  but  not 


1.6  PHILIPENA,    OR 

a  wishful  eye :  it  was  a  look  of  fear, 
such  as  we  commonly  bestow  when  we 
wish  to  avoid  an  object.  This  kind  of 
straggler  I  observed  could  never  be 
persuaded  to  pass  any  nearer  to  the 
plain,  than  opposite  to  another  very 
high  pillar,  which  was  placed  a  great 
way  off"  in  the  back-ground,  but  yet 
within  sight  of  the  gate  that  opened  on 
the  plain.  On  this  pillar  there  was 
written — "  It  is  not  good  for  man  to  be 
alone ;"  the  sight  of  which  kept  these 
wanderers  in  a  state  of  perpetual  agita- 
tion, seeking  rest  but  finding  none.  I 
wondered  why  they  did  not  come  along 
with  the  rest,  when  I  was  told  that  they 
were  old  bachelors,  or  woman-haters. 
"Oh,"  said  I,  "  how  strange  !"  What  be- 
came of  them  I  never  could  find  out,  as 
they  seemed  to  disappear  in  a  kmd  of 
mist,  which  arose  out  of  a  dismal  look- 
ing swamp,  not  far  from  the  high  road 
to  the  plain.  Soon  after  this  they  were 
forgotten,  and  nobody  qould  ever   tell 


friendship's  token.  17 


what  their  names  were.  It  was  observ- 
able, that  among  these  lonesome  beings 
there  was  never  found  a  woman ;  which 
circumstance  I  considered  extremely- 
favorable  to  the  character  of  the  latter. 
Besides  these  strange  kind  of  men, 
there  was  yet  another  character,  who, 
as  often  as  they  happened  to  be  jostled 
by  the  motions  of  the  crowd  anywhere 
near  the  gate  of  the  great  plain,  became 
in  a  moment  amazingly  frightened,  so 
that  they  would  shoot  off  upon  a  run, 
in  any  direction  but  that  of  the  gate: 
and  yet  they  would  not  forsake  the  con- 
course, seeming  to  love  the  company  of 
their  fellow-beings  after  all.  However, 
I  noticed,  that  like  the  miller  which 
flutters  around  the  blai;e  of  a  lamp, 
they  were  somehow  ever  and  c.non  quite 
near  the  gate ;  and  at  last  went  entirely 
in,  their  mates  being  alwaya  a  little 
ahead  of  them.  I  did  not  ask  who  they 
were,  for  on  their  very  faces  it  was  writ- 
ten— "  These    are  the  bashful  men." 


IS  PHILIPENA,    OR 

Among  the  number  I  saw  a  young  man 
of  fair  manners  and  sedate  mind,  who, 
being  noticed  and  flattered  a  little  by  a 
young  lady  somewhat  advanced  in 
years,  appeared  to  be  made  remarkably 
happy  by  it ;  so  much  so  that  he  was 
often  seen  talking  by  himself,  saying, 
"  How  can  it  be — she  is  handsome  and 
well-bred,  and  I  am  ignorant  of  the 
ways  of  company — how  can  it  be  that 
she  should  notice  me  so  much  ?  I  will 
marry  her  if  I  can."  Pretty  soon  I  saw 
them  go  in  at  the  gate,  the  young  man 
seeming  to  be  much  the  happiest,  while 
the  young  woman  looked  back  with  a 
kind  of  haughty  air,  mingled  with  dis- 
appointment, which  her  mate  had  not 
skill  enough  to  discover  at  the  time. 

Among  all  these  who  went  through 
the  gate,  it  was  wonderful  that  not  one 
of  them  took  the  least  notice  of  the  col- 
umn erected  near  the  plain,  nor  of  the 
inscriptions  thereon.  The  three  seats 
which  were  placed  near  the  pillar  they 


friendship's  token.  19 


])assed  by  in  flie  same  way,  never  so 
much  as  once  looking  at  the  seat  of  con- 
sideration, or  the  inscription  on  it,  which 
was — "  There  is  no  sohd  pleasure  with- 
out love." 

But  while  I  was  musing  on  these 
tilings,  I  observed  two  persons,  a  lady 
and  a  gentleman,  walking  very  slowly 
on  the  way  toward  the  plain.  They 
would  often  stop,  looking  first  backward 
and  then  forward,  then  upon  one  ano- 
ther, as  though  they  were  at  a  loss 
which  way  to  go.  The  deportment  oi^ 
this  couple  being  so  different  from  all 
the  rest,  engaged  my  whole  attention 
for  some  time.  As  they  drew  nigh  they 
both  at  the  same  moment  saw  the  pillar 
with  the  inscription  written  upon  it — 
'•  Ponder  the  paths  of  thy  feei,"  &c. 
Their  attention  soon  became  fixed  upon 
this  inscription,  when  their  countenances 
changed :  they  gazed  one  upon  the 
other  with  pensive  looks,  remaining 
some   time   in   profound    silence.      At 


20  PHILIPENA,    OR 


length  the  lady  said.  "  Have  we  thought 
of  this  before  as  we  ought  to  have 
done  ?"  The  other  answered,  "  I  fear 
we  have  not."  They  then  began  to 
read  the  inscriptions  on  the  steps  at  the 
foot  of  the  pillar,  which  read  as  follows: 
1st.  ''  Step  with  moderation."  2d.  "  Ex- 
amine your  motives  of  action,  and  duly 
weigh  the  consequences  of  your  under- 
taking." 3d.  "  There  is  no  solid  pleas- 
ure without  love."  When  they  had 
read  all  these  they  both  went  up  and 
sat  down  upon  the  seat  of  consideration; 
and  finding  themselves  in  fair  prospect 
of  both  the  crowd  and  the  plain,  they 
gazed  upon  them  alternately,  then  upon 
each  other,  while  a  strange  mixture  of 
surprise  was  working  round  their  hearts, 
exciting  in  them  an  unusual  desire  to 
know  the  truth  of  their  own  case,  seem- 
ing to  fear  they  were  ignorant  of  this. 
In  this  position  thoy  sat  for  several  min- 
utes, looking  at  each  other,  having  on 
their   countenances  looks  of  agitation 


friendship's  token.  21 


and  alarm.  But  suddenly,  instead  of 
rushing  to  each  others  arms  like  a  silly- 
couple,  as  many  would  have  done,  they 
turned  away  their  faces  and  hung  down 
their  heads,  as  though  they  were  de- 
termined to  think  for  themselves ;  and 
not  to  be  carried  away  by  the  impulse 
of  a  moment,  in  a  matter  of  so  much 
weight.  Thus  circumstanced,  they  sat 
for  some  time  without  motion,  except 
once  in  a  while  to  cast  a  look  to  the 
plain,  then  on  the  crowd.  At  length 
they  turned  wholly  from  these  objects, 
and  fastened  their  attention  upon  the 
inscription  written  on  the  third  step, 
which  was — "  There  is  no  soUd  plea- 
sure without  love."  This  they  read 
over  and  over  to  themselves,  pondering 
it  in  their  minds,  when  they  turned  to- 
ward each  other,  and  gazing  steadfastly, 
said,  "Have  we  that  love  for  each 
other  that  is  essential  to  sohd  pleasure  1" 
To  this  they  both  replied,  "  I  hope  that 
we  have ; "  yet  any  one  could  see  that 


22  PHILIPENA,    OR 

they  felt  a  great  degree  of  diffidence  of 
themselves  on  this  subject,  lest  their 
feelings  for  each  other  might  proceed 
from  some  other  principle  than  undying 
love,  which  many  waters  cannot  quench. 
They  now  began  freely  to  open  their  j 
hearts  to  each  other,  and  said,  after 
conversing  a  while,  "we  had  better 
turn  back  and  go  no  further,  if  we  are 
not  sure  that  we  possess  true  love." 
In  this  they  were  both  agreed.  But 
how  they  should  obtain  the  evidence, 
to  a  certainty,  that  they  had  this  love, 
was  a  great  question  between  them. 
Were  we  here  to  give  an  account  of 
their  conversation  on  this  point,  it  would 
extend  these  pages  beyond  our  inten- 
tions ;  on  which  account  we  shall  leave 
it  for  the  imagination  of  those  in  a  like 
predicament  to  make  out.  But  at  length 
they  concluded,  that  as  they  were  liable 
to  bias  each  other's  minds  when  to- 
gether, and  that  if  they  could  not  agree 
in  what  are  tlie  essential  evidences  of 


FRIENDSHIP'S   TOKEN.  23 

love,  it  were  in  vain  for  them  to  go  any- 
further  ;  on  which  account  they  deter- 
mined to  turn  from  each  other  awhile, 
till  they  should  each  for  themselves 
make  up  their  own  catalogue  of  evi- 
dence, and  then  to  compare  notes. 
This  took  up  their  attention  for  several 
days,  as  it  was  a  considerable  labor, 
although  it  was  a  labor  of  love ;  and  I 
am  of  the  opinion,  that  any  other  suiters 
could  have  made  but  poor  progress  in 
their  affections  during  this  period,  had 
any  made  the  attempt.  At  length  they 
concluded  to  compare  notes,  both  of 
them  fearing  that  tiiey  should  not  agree. 
At  the  time  they  compared  their  respec- 
tive notes,  they  had  sat  down  upon  the 
same  seat  where  they  had  mused  so 
long  a  few  days  before,  namely,  the 
seat  of  consideration  ;  as  it  was  at  this 
place  they  had  agreed  to  meet,  so  that 
they  were  all  the  while  so  near  me  that 
I  could  hear  the  talk  as  they  produced 
the  evidences.    I  was  however  a  litde 


24  PHILIPENA,    OR 

disappointed  in  one  respect  with  regard 
to  their  notes ;  for  I  had  fancied  that 
they  would  each  have  written  out  at 
length  on  paper,  in  black  and  white, 
their  views ;  of  which  I  had  made  up 
ray  mind  to  procure  a  copy  for  my  own 
reading  and  information ;  but  I  soon 
saw  the  matter  was  written  on  their 
hearts,  and  that  they  had  no  need  of 
ink  and  paper  to  assist  the  memory ; 
for  from  the  fulness  of  their  feehngs, 
their  lips  disccurced  the  evidences  over 
and  over,  which  on  both  sides,  to  my 
great  astonishment,  agreed  in  every 
particular.  But  alth^gh  their  minutes 
were  not  written,  yet  I  concluded  to 
take  down  the  notes,  as  I  heard  them 
talk  it  over,  which  was  as  follows : 

"  1st.  We  are  poor,  imperfect  crea- 
tures, and  if  we  love  each  other,  we 
have  determined  patiently  to  bear  with 
each  other's  infirmities — if  so  this  is  one 
evidence. 

"2d.   Besides    common    infirmities, 


friendship's  token.  25 

we  are  very  liable  to  get  out  of  temper 
often, 'and  to  speak  unadvisedly.^  If  we 
can  endure  this  without  having  such 
hardness  created  in  our  minds  toward 
each  other  as  to  prevent  our  sitting 
down  when  our  passions  are  allayed, 
and  gently  reproving  each  other,  con- 
fessing our  faults  and  forgiving  one 
another,  and  taking  the  same  delight  in 
each  other's  company  as  before — this 
then  is  the  second  evidence. 

"  3d.  As  we  know  not  what  is  before 
us,  whether  prosperity  or  adversity,  do 
we  feel  that  we  can  freely  partake  of 
each  other's  sorrows  as  well  as  joys, 
whether  in  poverty,  sickness,  and  all 
kinds  of  adversity ;  if  so,  then  it  is  an 
evidence  of  an  abiding  love,  that  will  do 
to  trust  our  future  earthly  happiness 
upon. 

"  4th.  We  are  liable,  in  the  manag- 
ing our  domestic  concerns,  through 
error  in  judgment,  to  reduce  each  other 
to   difficulties;  if  this  can  be  endured 


26  PHILIPENA,    OR 

without  breaking   our    friendship,   we 
may  think  it  also  an  evidence  of  love. 

"  5th.  Have  we  that  respect  for  each 
other  that  we  have  no  desire  to  look 
any  further,  but  feel  willing  to  cleave  to 
each  other  in  preference  to  any  and  all 
others  forever?  If  so,  this  is  an  addi- 
tional evidence  of  a  deathless  love. 

"  6th.  For  one  person  to  appear  to 
another  different  from  the  reality,  and 
thereby  raise  an  expectation  in  the  mind 
of  that  other  person,  of  engaging  with 
such  a  character  as  would  be  exceed 
ingly  agreeable,  and  then  afterwards 
act  out  a  character  entirely  different, 
when  it  is  too  late  for  the  deceived  party 
to  extricate  him  or  herself  from  the  dif- 
ficulty, is  no  evidence  of  respect :  this 
we  can  never  do  to  the  person  we  love. 
If  therefore  we  feel  tlmt  temper  of  heart, 
which  makes  us  willing  that  the  other 
should  know  just  what  we  are,  that  we 
may  judge  from  sure  data  of  each  other's 
characters  and  state  of  feeling ;  then 


friendship's  token.  27 

this,  with  the  other  evidences,  may  be 
reckoned  a  sure  and  certain  proof  of 
unchanging  love." 

In  all  these  particulars  they  readily 
agreed,  and  said  they  felt  all  this  in 
their  hearts  for  each  other.  They  then 
joined  their  hands  and  solemnly  cove- 
nanted to  do  their  utmost  to  prove, 
through  their  whole  lives,  to  each  other, 
the  truth  and  sincerity  of  their  profes- 
sions. They  then  arose  from  the  seat, 
descended  the  steps,  and  went  through 
the  gate  on  to  the  great  plain  ;  and  as 
they  went  there  appeared  a  sweetness 
and  contentment  in  their  countenances* 
which  I  had  not  seen  exhibited  on  the 
plain  before. 

There  was  one  couple  I  noticed  who 
were  remarkably  well  built  and  hand- 
some, upon  whose  countenances  was 
the  flush  of  perpetual  health;  good 
isense  and  good  breeding  were  seen  in 
all  their  demeanor.  It  appeared  tiiey 
had  read  much,  and  had  stored  their 


28  PHILIPENA,    OR 


minds  with  ideas ;  a  good  foundation, 
of  the  right  kind,  on  which  to  sustain 
sociability  after  marriage — a  quahfica- 
tion  of  immense  importance,  but  much 
neglected  in  general.  One  particular 
trait  of  information  they  appeared  to 
have  acquired,  relative  to  ancient  his- 
tory, was,  respecting  the  great  number 
of  children  the  patriarchs  were  the 
parents  of  They  were  talking  about 
it  as  they  went  through  the  gate ;  of 
its  advantages,  &c.,  in  settling  new 
countries ;  and  of  support,  company  and 
friends  in  old  age,  which  such  a  circum- 
stance always  secured :  they  were  soon 
out  of  sight,  and  I  could  hear  no  more. 
A  while  after  this,  I  also  thought  it 
best  for  me  to  go  through  the  gate  on 
to  the  great  plains.  Accordingly  I 
went  in  the  prescribed  way,  having 
chosen  one  to  accompany  me.  Having 
arrived  there,  I  settled  somewhere  in 
tlie  centre  of  the  plains,  having  tlie 
mountains,  which  pa?:sed  onward  in  full 


friendship's  token.  29 


view,  and  at  nearly  equal  distance  from 
my  habitation,  making  it  a  place  of  the 
most  romantic  description.  In  the 
morning  the  rising  san  appeared  hke  a 
mighty  minister  of  light — who,  with  an 
ease  peculiar  to  the  simplicity  of  God's 
works,  brushed  away  with  his  burning 
wings  the  darkness  of  the  previous 
night,  smiling  down  upon  each  and 
every  plant  of  the  great  plain  with  de- 
light, which,  in  their  turn,  raised  their 
leaves,  blossoms  and  fruits,  up  towards 
him  in  joy,  as  if  they  would  say,  thou 
art  welcome,  messenger  of  the  great 
Creator.  When  the  concave  above  the 
plain  had  been  passed,  and  this  angel 
of  terrestrial  light  was  beginning  to  dip 
the  tip  of  his  wings  in  oceans  of  space 
beyond  us,  he  would  flutter  his  radiant 
pinions  through  all  forests,  over  all 
hills,  vales  and  savannahs,  seeming  to 
whisper  to  each  child  of  being,  sleep 
sweetly  till  I  return. 

Very  near  my  habitation  there  arose, 


30  PHILIPENA,    OR 


not  a  great  way  apart,  four  beautiful 
fountains;  and  as  the  place  of  their 
sources  was  rather  elevated  above  the 
general  level  of  the  plain,  they  flowed 
easily  and  beautifully  t(fvvard  the  four 
quarters  or  cardinal  points  of  the  earth. 
Around  me  grew  all  trees  of  beauty, 
filled  with  blossoms  and  fruit,  suited  m 
endless  varieties  to  the  taste  ;  so  that  no 
situation  can  be  supposed  more  de- 
lightful. I  found  in  my  rambles,  very 
near  the  centre  of  the  area,  between 
the  four  fountains  above  mentioned,  tra- 
ditions of  a  tree  of  the  most  singular 
nature,  which  was  planted  there  by  the 
Maker  of  the  universe,  and  was  called 
the  tree  of  immortality  or  tree  of  life. 
This  tree  bore  every  kind  of  fruit  ne- 
cessary botli  for  the  support  and  hap- 
piness of  the  dwellers  on  the  plain,  so 
good  was  the  soil  originally.  I  found, 
among  the  people  in  that  country  (the 
great  plain)  another  tradition,  that  the 
place  was  at  first  discovered  by  an  an- 


friendship's  token.  31 


cient  man,  called  Adam.  So  great  was 
his  couras^e,  they  said,  that  no  wild 
beast  could  in  the  least  daunt  his  coun- 
tenance or  cower  his  eye.  The  Ele- 
phant, the  Rhinoceros,  the  Lion,  the 
Leopard,  the  Tiger,  the  Panther,  the 
Hyena,  the  Anaconda,  or  great  red 
Dragon,  the  Vulture,  the  golden  Eagle, 
were  objects  not  of  terror,  but  of  mere 
curiosity  to  this  ancient  man:  all  of 
whom  would,  at  his  very  sight,  let  fall 
their  bravery  and  terror  of  looks,  so 
much  did  the  animals  of  power  acknow- 
ledge the  superiority  of  this  great  and 
ancient  man.  It  appears  also  that  this 
ancient  man,  the  first  settler  of  the 
great  plain  (social  life),  entered  upon  it 
in  the  same  way  that  all  the  other  set- 
tlers have  done  since,  namely,  by  only 
two  at  a  time,  who  were  extremely 
happy,  and  would  have  continued  so 
till  this  time,  with  all  their  posterity, 
had  not  this  first  settler  and  his  wife 
been  persuaded  by  o.  foreigner  to  strike 


32  PHILIPENA,    OR 


a  blow  on  the  trunk  of  this  wonderful 
tree,  or  tree  of  Hfe,  merely  to  see  what 
the  effect  would  be.  as  this  foreigner  had 
told  them  that  much  good  would  be 
produced  by  the  blow.  But  what  was 
the  effect  ?  It  was  this :  the  tree  inime- 
dlately  died,  dried  up,  and  disappeared : 
when  there  came  up,  in  the  very  spot 
where  it  stood,  another  tree,  called  the 
tree  of  Sin,  which  brought  forth  a  fruit 
called  Pride,  and  every  hurtful  thing 
with  it.  From  this  tree  there  arose, 
over  the  whole  plain,  a  poisonous  efflu- 
via, filHng  the  air  with  malignant  va- 
pors, so  that  it  became  extremely  un- 
healthy in  all  that  country;  causing 
many  kinds  of  hurtful  plants  to  spring 
iip,  sp  that  the  pristine  salubrity  of  the 
plain  was  destroyed  forever. 

But  to  return  to  my  story  respecting 
those  who  had  entered  the  plain.  It 
now  came  into  my  mind  that,  as  I 
had  become  one  of  their  number,  I 
would  ffo  and  visit  the  different  classes 


FRIENDSHIP'S    TOKEN. 


I  had  seen  enter  the  plain  when  I  was 
on  the  out  side  of  the  gate.  Proceed- 
ing accordingly,  I  soon  came  to  the  first, 
which  the  reader  is  requested  to  remem- 
ber were  those  who  entered  on  the  plain 
merely  for  custoin's  sake.  These  I 
found  in  very  miserable  circumstances; 
their  houses,  outside  and  inside,  looked 
as  if  they  had  indeed  been  led  to  settle 
there  from  no  higher  principle  than 
mere  custom,  true  enough  :  all  was  dirt 
and  confusion ;  their  fields  all  lay  waste, 
and  were  grown  over  with  weeds ;  it 
looked  so  dreary,  that  I  thought,  at  first, 
there  was  no  growth  on  their  whole 
plantation  that  was  good  for  anything ; 
but,  at  last,  I  saw  a  small  garden,  hav- 
ing a  kind  of  hedge  about  it,  where  I 
observed  a  few  plants  of  natural  affec- 
tion. These,  however,  seemed  to  be 
cultivated  by  the  parents  merely  for 
their  children's  sake,  and  were  so  over- 
shadowed by  the  trees  of  anxiety^  that 
I  wondered  how  they  could  grow  at  all. 


34  PHILIPENA,    OR 

This  was  all  that  could  be  found  there, 
so  I  went  on  to  the  next.  These,  it  will 
be  recollected,  entered  the  plain  for 
want  of  a  home — and  a  home  they  had 
^ot,  such  as  it  was,  which  was  bad 
enough.  I  now  went  on  to  the  next, 
being  those  who  had  entered  the  plain 
merely  to  gratify  their  wills  in  oppo- 
sition to  supposed  or  real  enemies,  just 
to  let  every  body  know  they  would  and 
could  do  just  what  they  liked,  when  it  is 
likely  nobody,  after  all,  cared  a  farthing 
about  what  they  did  : — these  had  trou- 
ble enough  and  some  to  spare,  for  they 
hated  one  another  now,  beyond  meas- 
ure. While  visiting  about,  I  did  not 
forget  the  young  man  who  was  so  happy 
on  being  noticed  and  flattered  by  a  cer- 
tain young  womart,  who,  when  she  went 
into  the  gate  with  her  partner,  looked  a 
little  sorry,  as  well  as  a  little  haughty, 
mixed  with  disappointment.  These  I 
I  found  had  parted — for  the  young  man 
afterwards  found  out  that  she  had  been 


friendship's  token.  35 


disappointed — and  that  she  had  noticed 
and  married  him,  merely  to  let  her  first 
lover  know  that  she  could  get  married 
as  well  as  himself.  He  had  left  the 
house  just  as  1  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
was  running  toward  the  wall  which 
extended  out  each  way  from  the  gate, 
over  which  he  had  sprung,  at  a  leap ; 
but,  as  he  went  over,  a  spike  of  the  wall 
caught  him  by  his  clothes,  where  for  a 
little  while  he  hung — which  caused  a 
great  shout  of  laughter  on  the  outside, 
which  I  could  plainly  hear.  We  wish 
the  reader  to  know  that  we  mean,  by 
the  spikes  on  the  wall,  public  scorn  and 
derision  at  having  come  away  from  the 
plain  too  soon,  even  before  his  partner 
died  ;  and  yet,  after  he  had  hung  there 
awhile,  and  the  multitude  had  laughed 
at  him  as  long  as  tliey  wished,  they  be- 
gan to  pity  him,  and  to  say  they  did  not 
blame  him  so  very  much  after  all,  when 
tliey  came  to  know  just  how  it  was. 
I  then  went  to  see  those  who  had 


36  PHILIPENA,    OR 

been  governed  in  their  entrance  on  the 
plains,  by  the  outward  show  of  beauty 
and  dress.  By  a  series  of  hardships 
and  the  advances  of  as^e,  they  were 
dreadfully  defaced  and  twisted  about : 
— these  spent  their  time  in  boasting  of 
what  they  had  once  been,  and  of  twit- 
ting each  other  about  the  use  they  had 
made  of  their  beauty,  when  in  posses- 
sion of  it :  Oh  !  how  wretched  they 
were  !  I  next  went  to  see  those  who 
had  doted  on  their  titled  honors,  and 
those  who  were  (governed  on  their  en  ■ 
trance  to  the  plain  by  the  love  of  riches ; 
for  they  botli  lived  very  near  to  each 
other.  They  seemed  to  have  two  kinds 
of  trees  that  quite  overspread  their 
whole  plantation  ;  the  one  kind  bore 
the  fruit  of  covetousness.  and  the  other 
the  fruit  of  perplexing  cares,  how  they 
should  preserve  their  riches  and  honor. 
They  indeed  seemed  l.o  take  some  im- 
aginary delight  in  their  company,  and 
in  vain  amusements.     But  when  they 


friendship's  token.  37 


went  into  their  houses,   there    was  no 
domestic  happiness. 

I  next  went  to  visit  those  who  had 
gone  on  to  the  plain  in  order  to  get  rid 
of  trouble,  who  I  tbund  had  their  trouble 
made  four-fold.  These  were  to  be 
pitied,  as  the  act  seemed  to  have  been 
a  sort  of  phrenzy  produced  by  the  agony 
of  suffering,  leaving  to  the  heart-broken 
and  grief-stricken  one  no  choice,  but 
that  of  an  onward  state  of  ruin,  from 
which  nothing  but  death  could  relieve 
them,  except  they  should  break  through 
the  gate  at  which  they  entered,  when 
the  whole  populace  would  raise  its  out- 
cry in  the  ears  of  the  runaway ;  so  that 
between  the  pain  of  remaining  on  the 
plain,  and  the  disgrace  of  breaking 
through  the  gate,  or  getting  over  the 
wall,  they  were  doomed  to  pass  a  life  of 
indescribable  agony,  too  dreadful  for 
the  pen  of  description.  In  looking  about 
on  the  plain,  I  saw  the  one  who  had 
come  back,  on  account  of  having  lost 


38  PHILIPENA,    OR 

her  mate  by  death,  who  had  one  or  two 
children,  and  had  been  induced  to  go 
on  to  the  plain  again,  against  her  will, 
in  company  with  a  kind  of  half-witted 
partner.  I  found  her  pining  away  in  a 
state  of  gloomy  sohtude,  having  no 
company  or  fellow-feeling  with  her 
partner,  who  was  now  hated,  and  yet 
did  not  seem  to  know  that  he  was 
hated  ;  and  besides,  the  home  that  she 
expected  to  have  got  was  never  obtain- 
ed ;  the  children  were  divided  and  sep- 
arated hundreds  of  miles,  and  finally, 
died  so  far  asunder,  that  she  could  not 
be  present  at  their  deaths  to  comfort 
them  in  th5ti^last  moments.  The  whole 
population  of  the  plain  wept  when  they 
saw  this,  and  were  ready  to  say  to  her 
she  had  almost  better  have  broke 
through  the  gate,  or  over-leapt  the  wall, 
even  if  i^he  did  get  torn  by  the  spikes 
of  public  opinion  a  little,  as  this  really 
was  belter  than  none.  At  length  I  was 
told  that  she  had  done  so,  and  that  she 


friendship's  token.  39 

leaped  so  high  that  not  a  spike  reached* 
her  as  she  went  over,  for  she  went  so 
far  that  she  was  never  heard  of  after- 
wards, and  every  body  said  they  did 
not  blame  her  much.  I  also  saw  the 
one  who  had  taken  a  cruel  natured 
mate — who,  I  saw,  was  deranged  and 
in  chains,  and  her  httle  ones  were  dead, 
or  bound  out  to  hard  masters,  and  she 
in  a  state  of  affliction.  O  !  how  I  pitied 
her  and  them. 

Next  I  came  to  those  who  had  been 
stimulated  to  enter  the  plains  by  the 
flames  of  connubial  desire.  I  found 
their  whole  plantation  one  entire  thicket 
of  briars,  thorns  and  thistles,  so  that 
they  could  not  progress  one  step  with- 
out being  torn  and  mangled  as  they 
went  along.  This  was  shocking  to  be- 
hold, yet  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart 
to  pity  them  much.  The  reader  will 
remember  the  couple  who  were  con- 
versing about  Ancient  History,  and  the 
Patriarchs  having  so  many  sons  and 


40  PHILIPENA,    OR 

daughters,  as  they  went  through  the 
gate.  This  couple  I  found  living  on  a 
large  plantation,  having  beautiful  fields, 
orchards,  granaries,  cattle  and  herds, 
with  an  elegant  mansion  full  of  all  that 
heart  could  wish,  besides  quite  a  com- 
pany of  beautiful  daughters  and  robust 
sons,  before  whose  power  the  forest  was 
as  a  trifle.  They  had  grown  gray,  but 
still  they  were  talking  about  their  sons, 
daughters  and  grand  children.  Surely, 
I  said  in  my  heart,  God  favors  the  mul- 
tipliers of  his  own  image,  and  sends 
them  temporal  happiness,  more  than 
heart  can  wish — showing  that  it  is  good 
for  man  not  to  be  alone.  But  I  had  like 
to  have  forgotten  the  bashful  man,  who 
approached  the  gate  with  so  much 
dread  ;  among  the  rest  I  visited  him 
also.  But  it  was  with  him  as  it  some- 
times happens  with  the  cowards  on  the 
field  of  battle,  who  fight  desperately 
when  they  find  themselves  cornered ; 
so  the  bashful  man — I  found  him  knock- 


friendship's  token.  41 

ing  about  at  a  fearful  rate,  for  the  main- 
tenance of  his  immense  authority,  over 
the  weakness  of  his  wife  and  children. 
'•  Oh  fie  !"  said  I,  '•  what  a  pity  !" 

The  whole  of  this  numerous  throng, 
wnth  but  two  or  three  exceptions,  ap- 
peared to  be  destitute  of  solid  happi- 
ness ;  in  this  sense  they  were  poor  and 
miserable,  being  discontented  with  their 
situations.  Various  were  the  methods 
they  took  for  reUef;  some  tried  one 
thing  and  some  another,  but  all  their 
efforts  proved  vain.  Some  had  a  mind 
to  quit  the  plain  entirely ;  but  when  they 
came  to  the  passage,  they  found  it 
shaped  much  like  that  of  an  eel-pot — 
very  easy  to  slip  into,  but  extremely 
difficult  to  get  out  of  it  again.  In  par- 
ticular, I  could  but  remember  the  parti- 
colored couple  who  had  gone  through 
the  gate  so  very  slyly ;  these  I  found 
far  away,  in  a  kind  of  remote  place,  so 
that  they  were  seldom  seen,  and  around 
them  were  a  number  of  children,  still 


42  PHILIPENA,    OR 


of  a  different  hue,  partaking  a  little  of 
the  tincture  of  each  of  their  parents. 
Of  these  the  people  of  the  plain  said, 
that  as  the}'  had  broken  over  the  bounds 
prescribed  by  nature,  and  had  produced 
a  race  of  beings  dissimilar  from  the  ori- 
ginal creation,  that  they  ought  not  to 
be  much  thought  of,  nor  any  body  who 
favored  such  things.  And  as  nobody 
seemed  to  respect  them,  so  they  diS  not 
respect  themselves,  and  lived  in  a  state 
of  recrimination,  snapping  and  snarling 
like  a  couple  of  canine  beings,  while  the 
offspring  looked  on  in  a  kind  of  silly 
surprise,  and  wished  themselves  back 
again,  father  and  mother,  and  all,  out 
of  the  plains. 

By  this  time  I  bethought  myself  of 
those  who  sat  so  long  on  the  seat  of 
consideration,  and  determined  to  pay 
them  a  visit  as  well  as  the  rest.  On 
coming  in  sight  of  their  habitation,  I 
thought  at  first  they  were  as  bad  off  as 
the  rest,  as  I  saw  an  abundance  of  those 


friendship's    TaKEN.  43 


hurtful  things  before  mentioned  inter- 
spersed among  all  they  had.  I  how- 
ever soon  discovered  tiiat  they  had  a 
Httle  private  garden,  with  the  best  fence 
about  it  of  any  I  had  seen  in  all  the 
plains.  I  felt  immediately  anxious  to 
know  what  there  was  in  it.  When 
they  became  acquainted  with  my  desire, 
I  wa^'invited  to  walk  in.  On  entering 
it, /jf  thought  it  the  prettiest  and  most 
delightful  place  I  had  ever  beheld,  since 
the  first  great  settler  had  struck  the 
curious  tree  that  fatal  blow.  In  this 
garden  they  had  a  small  bower,  over- 
spread with  a  beautiful  vine,  by  the 
name  of  conjugal  love.  I  noticed  that 
this  man  and  his  mate  often  retired  into 
this  bower  to  refresh  themselves,  and 
to  console  each  other  in  the  sorrows  of 
life.  It  was  admirable  to  me,  to  see 
whenever  they  sat  down  under  this 
shade,  it  would  at  once  cool  every  tur- 
bulent passion,  producing  the  same  kind 
of  expression  of    countenance   which 


44  PHILIPENA,    OR 

distinguished  them  on  the  seat  of  con- 
sideration, and  when  they  went  hand 
in  hand  through  the  gate  of  the  great 
plain. 

I  inquired  how  they  came  by  tlmt 
vine,  and  why  there  were  no  more  on 
the  plain?  They  said  the  vine  was 
naturally  the  original  production  of  the 
soil ;  but  that  the  two  first  settlers  had 
corrupted  the  soil,  so  that  none  of^hem 
grew  here  now,  unless  those  who  enter 
the  plain  bring  the  seed  with  them  ; 
and  even  then  the  greatest  pains  must 
be  taken  to  cultivate  it.  The  seed  of 
this  vine  they  said  they  received  as  a 
donation  from  the  great  Benefactor  of 
the  world,  as  an  act  of  grace ;  for  they 
said  the  first  settler  had  forfeited  all 
right  in  his  person  and  that  of  his  pos- 
terity, to  that  vine  and  every  other 
blessing.  As  to  my  inquiry  why  there 
was  no  more  of  the  kind  on  the  plam, 
they  said  they  did  not  know,  unless 
those  who  came  there  rushed  on  so  pre- 


friendship's  token.  45 

cipitately  that  they  never  so  much  as 
read  the  inscription  on  the  pillar,  or 
ascended  the  seat  of  consideration,  be- 
fore they  entered  the  plain.  They  told 
me  they  had  to  watch  around  .the  roots 
of  this  vine  with  incessant  care,  or  from 
the  badness  of  the  soil  in  v^^hich  it  grew, 
sprouts  of  a  very  bad  nature  would  im- 
mediately come  Lip  and  destroy  all  their 
happiness. 

In  looking  about  the  garden,  in  other 
parts  of  it,  I  soon  discovered  a  very 
rough  looking  tree,  which  I  supposed 
was  occasioned  by  the  bark  only,  for 
the  tree  itself  was  handsomely  propor- 
tioned, having  on  it  many  long  and  pen- 
dant branches,  very  limber  and  tough, 
and  bearing  a  kind  of  fruit  very  beauti- 
ful to  look  upon ;  being  of  a  sweet  and 
chasie  mixture  of  the  water  color  and 
pink.  I  inquired  what  tree  it  was, 
when  they  said  it  was  the  tree  of  family 
government.  The  twigs  of  this  tree 
they  said  were  of  great  value  ;  which 


46  PHILIPENA,    OR 


in  my  ver)?-  sight  I  was  so  happy  as  to 
see  wonderfully  exemplified.  It  was 
as  follows :  One  of  their  children,  a 
beautiful  little  boy,  was  taken  in  a 
dreadlul*  fit  of  rebellion,  which  termi- 
nated in  a  settled  fever  of  madness. 
The  parents  agreed  that  it  was  best  to 
give  it  a  decoction  of  one  of  the  branches 
of  the  tree  ;  they  accordingly  did.  At 
first  the  child  made  up  wry  faces,  say- 
ing it  was  bitter;  but  in  a  little  while 
after,  he  said  the  bitternes  had  passed 
away,  and  that  his  mouth  was  wonder- 
ful sweet.  In  a  short  time  the  fever 
subsided  and  the  child  was  well,  and 
far  more  healthy  for  a  long  time  after 
than  before.  This  couple  I  found  in 
the  possession  of  as  much  felicity  as 
can  be  afforded  by  animal  enjoyment, 
yet  they  were  not  without  their  diffi- 
culties and  afflictions. 

After  leaving  this  house  I  saw  there 
was  still  another  plantation  a  little  way 
off,  which,  as  I  went,  I  perceived  look- 


friendship's  token.  47 


ed  much  better  than  the  one  just  exa- 
mined. Their  garden  was  much  larger 
and  better  trimmed  than  the  other.  I 
knocked  at  the  gate,  when  a  voice  with- 
in bid  me  to  enter.  At  first  sight  I  no- 
ticed that  this  couple  were  far  more 
happy  than  the  other.  I  saw  they  had 
the  bower,  with  the  vine  of  conjugal 
love,  and  the  tree  of  family  government 
as  well  as  the  other ;  but  besides,  they 
had  another. bower  of  much  greater  ex- 
tent than  I  had  seen  on  the  plain  be- 
fore, and  far  more  delightful ;  for  it  was 
formed  of  various  kinds  of  plants  whose 
fruit  was  tiie  result  of  piety  toward 
God.  The  shade  of  these  plants  was 
the  most  delightful  I  had  ever  sat  under 
in  my  life.  Inside  the  bower  there  was 
a  seat  which  went  all  around  it,  and 
was  called  the  seat  of  resignation.  I 
I  sat  down  upon  it  and  you  can  hardly 
imagine  how  easy  it  was  to  sit  upon. 
On  this  seat  the  whole  family  could  sit 
and  reach  the  clusters,  the  produce  of 


48  PHILIPENA,    OR 


the  plants  and  fruit  of  the  bower,  which 
hung  down  in  all  directions  through  the 
whole  year.  This  family  had  therefore 
a  plantation  of  the  most  value,  and  came 
nearer  being  like  the  ancient  and  first 
settler  before  his  f\tal  blow  on  the  cu- 
rious tree  ;  which  was  the  trait  of  the 
likeness,  or  mind  of  the  maker  of  the 
first  settler  of  the  country. 

On  seeing  the  great  difference  there 
was  in  the  growth  of  all  the  plants  and 
vines,  and  the  produce,  the  quantity 
and  quality  of  the  fruit  above  that  of 
the  other  plantation,  I  inquired  the 
reason  of  the  owner,  seeing  the  soil 
was  by  nature  alike,  since  its  degenera- 
tion from  the  first  creation.  In  answer 
to  this  question  he  replied,  that  it  had 
pleased  the  great  Author  of  all  good, 
in  the  very  spot  where  the  seeds  were 
planted,  to  renovate  the  soil.  Yet  the 
couple  were  not  without  great  labor  in 
keeping  out  the  growth  of  weeds  and 
bad   vines,  which,  without   this  labor, 


friendship's  token.  49 


would  have  choked  the  useful  ones.  I 
observed  in  some  of  their  greatest 
fatigues  they  would  be  wonderfully  ani- 
mated With  something  they  had  in  pros- 
pect ;  I  inquired  what  it  was,  when 
they  informed  me  that  it  was  a  firm  and 
sure  belief  that  when  they  had  done 
with  this  life  they  should  no  more  be 
troubled  with  corrupt  vines  and  noxious 
plants,  nor  pressed  down  with  the  cares 
of  life  ;  but  should  go  to  a  world  where 
they  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in 
marriage,  but  are  as  the  angels  of  God 
in  heaven.  This  hops  made  them  en- 
dure with  patience  all  the  troubles  of 
life.  On  perceiving  this  I  concluded 
that  such  a  state  was  the  highest  pitch 
of  happiness  that  any  one  could  obtain 
in  this  life;  and  so  I  looked  for  no 
other. 

Thus  we  have  finished  an  allegorical 
account  of  the  marriage  state,  and  of 
the  several  characters  who  in  all  ages 
have  engaged  in  it ;  showing  that  one 


50  PHILIPENA,    OR 

principle  only  is  necessary  to  its  fur- 
therance of  human  happiness,  namely, 
that  of  true  love  alone ;  and  one  to  se- 
cure happiness  beyond  this  life,  and 
that  is  the  love  of  God  alone ;  which 
no  man  can  despise,  and  feel  easy  in  the 
secret  recesses  of  his  own  heart. 


friendship's  token.  51 


The   Heart   that's    True. 

Tell  me  not  of  Sparkling  gems, 
Set  in  real  diadems— 
You  may  boast  your  diamonds  rare, 
Rubies  bright,  and  pearls  so  fair; 
But  there's  a  peerless  gem  on  earth, 
Of  richer  ray  and  purer  worth : 
'Tis  priceless,  but  'tis  worn  by  few- 
It  is,  it  is— the  heart  that's  true. 

Bring  the  tulip  and  the  rose, 
"While  their  brilliant  beauty  glows; 

Let  the  storm-cloud  fling  a  shade. 
But  there's  a  flower  that  still  is  found, 

(Ro.se  and  tulip  both  will  fade," 
When  mist  and  darkness  close  around  ;) 
Changeless,  fadeless  in  its  hue- 
It  is,  it  is— the  heart  that's  true. 

Ardent  in  its  earliest  tie, 
Faithful  in  its  latest  sigh; 
Love  and  friendship— godlike  paii^ 
Fi-nd  their  throne  of  glory  there. 
Proudly  scorning  bribe  or  threat  I 
Naught  can  break  the  seal  once  set ; 
All  that  civil  gold  can  do, 
Cannot  warp  the  heart  that's  true. 

First  in  Freedom's  cause  to  bleed, 

First  m  joy  when  slaves  are  freed ; 

Then  hearts)  were  true,  and  who  could  quell 

The  might  of  Washington  or  Tell? 

Oh,  there  is  one  mortid  shrine, 

Lighted  up  with  rays  divine — 

Seek  it— yield  the  homage  due — 

Deify  the  heart  that 's  tnie. 


PHILIPENA,    OR 


A  SIMPLE  STORY. 


"  In  a  city,  which  shall  be  nameless, 
there  lived  long  ago,  a  young  girl,  the 
only  daughter  of  a  widow.  She  came 
from  the  country,  and  was  as  ignorant 
of  the  dangers  of  a  city,  as  the  squir- 
rels of  her  native  fields.  She  had 
glossy  black  hair,  gentle,  beaming  eyes, 
and  '  lips  like  wet  coral.'  Of  course, 
she  knew  that  she  was  beautiful ;  for 
when  she  was  a  child,  strangers  often 
stopped  as  she  passed,  and  exclaimed, 
'  How  handsome  she  is  !  *  And  as  she 
grew  older,  the  young  men  gazed  on 
her  with  admiration.  She  was  poor, 
and  removed  to  the  city  to  earn  her 
living  by  covering  umbrellas.  She  was 
just  at  that  susceptible  age,  when  youth 


friendship's  token.  53 

is  passing  into  womanhood  ;  when  the 
soul  begins  to  be  pervaded  by  -that 
restless  principle,  which  impels  poor 
humans  to  seek  perfection  in  union.' 

At  the  hotel  opposite,  Lord  Henry 
Stuart,  an  Enghsh  nobleman,  had  at 
that  time  taken  lodgings.  His  visit  to 
this  country  is  doubtless  well  remem- 
bered by  many,  for  it  mac^e  a  great  sen- 
sation at  the  time.  He  was  a  peer  of 
the  realm,  descended  from  the  royal 
line,  and  was,  moreover,  a  strikingly 
handsome  man,  of  right  princely  car- 
riage. He  was  subsequently  a  member 
of  the  British  Parliament,  and  is  now 
dead. 

As  this  distinguished  stranger  passed 
to  and  from  his  hotel,  he  encountered 
the  umbrella-girl,  and  was  impressed 
by  her  uncommon  beauty.  He  easily 
traced  her  to  the  opposite  store,  where 
he  soon  after  went  to  purchase  an  um- 
brella. This  was  followed  up  by  pre- 
sents of  flowers,  chats  by  the  wayside ; 


54  PHILIPENA,    OR 


and  invitations  to  walk  or  ride ;  all  of 
which  were  gratefully  accepted  by  the 
unsuspecting  rustic.  He  was  playing 
a  game,  for  temporary  excitement,  she, 
with  a  head  full  of  romance,  and  a 
heart  melting  under  the  influence  of 
love,  was  unconsciously  endangering 
the  happiness  of  her  whole  life. 

Lord  Henry  invited  her  to  visit  the 
public  gardens,  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 
In  the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  she  be- 
lieved all  his  flattering  professions,  and 
considered  herself  his  bride  elect;  she 
therefore  accepted  the  invitation,  with 
innocent  frankness.  But  she  had  no 
dress  fit  to  appear  on  such  a  public 
occasion,  w^ith  a  gentleman  of  high 
rank,  whom  she  verily  supposed  to  be 
her  destined  husband. — While  these 
thoughts  revolved  in  her  mind,  her  eye 
was  unfortunately  attracted  by  a  beau- 
tiful piece  of  silk,  belonging  to  her  em- 
ployer. Ah,  could  she  not  take  it, 
without  being   seen,    and    pay  for   it 


friendship's  token.  55 


secretly,  when  she  had  earned  money- 
enough  ?  The  temptation  conquered 
her  in  a  moment  of  weakness.  She 
concealed  the  silk,  and  conveyed  it  to 
her  lodgings.  It  was  the  first  thing 
she  had  ever  stolen,  and  her  remorse 
was  painful.  She  would  have  carried 
it  back,  but  she  dreaded  discovery. — 
She  was  not  sure  that  her  repentance 
would  be  met  in  a  spirit  of  forgiveness. 
On  the  eventful  Fourth  of  July,  she 
came  out  in  her  new  dress.  Lord  Henry 
complimented  her  upon  her  elegant  ap- 
pearance ;  but  she  was  not  happy.  On 
their  way  to  the  gardens,  he  talked  to 
her  in  a  manner  which  she  did  not 
comprehend.  Perceiving  this,  he  spoke 
more  explicitly.  The  guileless  young 
creature  stopped,  looked  in  his  face 
with  mournful  reproach,  and  burst  into 
tears.  The  nobleman  took  her  hand 
kindly,  and  said,  '  My  dear,  are  you  an 
innocent  girl?'  'I  am,  I  am,'  replied 
she,  with  convTilsive  sobs.     '  Oh,  what 


56  PHILIPENA,    OR 

have  I  ever  done,  or  said,  that  you 
should  ask  me  that  V  Her  words  stir- 
red the  deep  fountains  of  his  better 
nature.  'If  you  are  innocent,' said  he, 
'  God  forbid  that  I  should  make  you 
otherwise.  But  you  accepted  my  in- 
vitations and  presents  so  readily,  that  I 
supposed  you  understood  me.'  '  What 
could  I  understand,'  said  she,  '  except 
that  you  intended  to  make  me  your 
wife  V  Though  reared  amid  the  proud- 
est distinctions  of  rank,  he  felt  no  in- 
clination to  smile.  He  blushed,  and 
was  silent.  The  heartless  convention- 
alities of  life  stood  rebuked  in  the  pre- 
sence of  affectionate  simplicity.  He 
conveyed  her  to  her  humble  home,  and 
bade  her  farewell,  with  a  thankful  con- 
sciousness that  he  had  done  no  irre- 
trievable injury  to  her  future  prospects. 
The  remembrance  of  her  would  soon 
be  to  him  as  the  recollection  of  last 
year's  butterflies.  With  her,  the  wound 
was  deeper.     In  her  solitary  chamber 


friendship's  token.  57 


she  wept,  in  bitterness  of  heart,  over 
her  ruined  air-castles.  And  that  dress, 
which  she  had  stolen  to  make  an  ap- 
pearance befitting  his  bride  !  Oh,  what 
if  she  should  be  discovered?  And 
would  not  the  heart  of  her  poor  widow- 
ed mother  break,  if  she  should  ever 
know  that  her  child  was  a  thief?  Alas, 
her  wretched  forebodings  were  too  true. 
The  silk  was  traced  to  her — she  was 
arrested,  on  her  way  to  the  store,  and 
dragged  to  prison.  There  she  re- 
fused all  nourishment,  and  wept  inces- 
santly. 

On  the  fourth  day,  the  keeper  called 
upon  Isaac  T.  Hopper,  and  informed 
him  that  there  was  a  young  girl  in  pri- 
son, who  appeared  to  be  utterly  friend- 
less, and  determined  to  die  by  starva- 
tion. The  kind-hearted  old  gentleman 
immediately  went  to  her  assistance. 
He  found  her  lying  on  the  floor  of  her 
cell,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands, 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 


58  PHILIPENA,    OR 


He  tried  to  comfort  her  but  could  ob- 
tain no  answer.  * 

'Leave  us  alone,'  said  he  to  the 
keeper.  'Perhaps  she  will  speak  to 
me,  if  there  is  none  to  hear.'  When 
they  were  alone  together,  he  put  back 
the  hair  from  her  temples,  laid  his  hand 
kindly  on  her  beautiful  head,  and  said, 
in  soothing  tones,  '  My  child,  consider 
me  as  thy  father.  Tell  me  all  thou 
hast  done.  If  thou  hast  taken  this  silk, 
let  me  know  all  about  it.  I  will  do  for 
thee  as  I  would  for  a  daughter;  and 
doubt  not  that  I  can  help  thee  out  of 
this  difficulty.' 

After  a  long  time  spent  in  affectionate 
entreaty,  she  leaned  her  young  head  on 
his  friendly  shoulder,  and  sobbed  out, 
'  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  dead.  What  will 
my  poor  mother  say,  when  she  knows 
of  my  disgrace?' 

'Perhaps  we  can  manage  that  she 
never  shall  know  it,'  replied  he ;  and 
alluring  her  by  this  hope,  he  gradually 


friendship's  token.  59 

obtained  from  her  the  whole  story  of 
her  acquaintance  with  the  nobleman. 
He  bade  her  be  comforted,  and  take 
nourishment ;  for  he  would  see  that  the 
silk  was  paid  for,  and  the  prosecution 
withdrawn.  He  went  immediately  to 
her  employer,  and  told  him  the  story. 
'This  is  her  first  offence,'  said  he; 
'  the  girl  is  young,  and  the  only  child 
of  a  poor  widow.  Give  her  a  chance 
to  retrieve  this  one  false  step,  and  she 
may  be  restored  to  society,  a  useful  and 
honored  woman.  I  will  see  that  thou 
art  paid  for  the  silk.'  The  man  readily 
agreed  to  withdraw  the  prosecution,  and 
said  he  would  have  dealt  otherwise  by 
the  girl  had  he  known  all  the  circum- 
stances. '  Thou  shouldst  have  inquired 
into  the  merits  of  the  case,  my  friend,' 
replied  Isaac.  '  By  this  kind  of  thought- 
lessness, many  a  young  creature  is 
driven  into  the  downward  path,  who 
might  easily  have  been  saved.' 

The  ffood  old  man  then  went  to  the 


60  PHILIPENA,    OR 


hotel  and  inquired  for  Henry  Stuart. 
The  servant  said  his  lordship  had  not 
yet  risen.  '  Tell  him  my  business  is 
of  importance,'  said  Friend  Hopper. 
The  servant  soon  returned  and  conduct- 
ed him  to  the  chamber.  The  nobleman 
appeared  surprised  that  a  plain  old 
Q,uaker  should  thus  intrude  upon  his 
laxurious  privacy;  but  when  he  heard 
his  errand,  he  blushed  deeply,  and 
frankly  admitted  the  truth  of  the  girl's 
statement.  His  benevolent  visitor  took 
the  opportunity  to  '  bear  a  testimony,' 
as  the  Friends  say,  against  the  sin  and 
selfishness  of  profligacy.  He  did  it  in 
such  a  kind  and  fatherly  manner,  tiiat 
the  young  man's  heart  was  touched. 
He  excused  himself,  by  saying  that  he 
would  not  have  tampered  with  the  girl, 
if  he  had  known  her  to  be  virtuous. — 
'  I  have  done  many  wrong  things,'  said 
he,  '  but,  thank  God,  no  betrayal  of 
confiding  innocence  rests  on  my  con- 
science.    I  have   always   esteemed   it 


friendship's  token.  6J 


the  basest  act  of  which  man  is  capable.' 
The  imprisonment  of  the  poor  girl,  and 
the  forlorn  situation  in  which  she  had 
been  found,  distressed  him  greatly. 
And  when  Isaac  represented  that  the 
silk  had  been  stolen  for  his  sake,  that 
the  girl  had  thereby  lost  profitable  em- 
ployment, and  was  obliged  to  return  to 
her  distant  home,  to  avoid  the  danger 
of  exposure,  he  took  out  a  fifty  dollar 
note,  and  oflfered  it  to  pay  her  expenses. 
'Nay,'  said  Isaac,  •  thou  art  a  very  rich 
man;  I  see  in  thy  hand  a  large  roll  of 
such  notes.  She  is  the  daughter  of  a 
poor  widow,  and  thou  hast  been  the 
means  of  doing  her  great  injury.  Give 
me  another.' 

Lord  Henry  handed  him  another  fifty 
dollar  note,  and  smiled  as  he  said, 
'  You  understand  your  business  well. 
But  you  have  acted  nobly,  and  I  reve- 
rence you  for  it.  If  you  ever  visit 
England,  come  to  see  me.     I  will  give 


62  PHILIPENA,    OR 

you  a  cordial  welcomej  and  treat  you 
like  a  nobleman.' 

'  Farewell,  friend,'  replied  Isaac : 
'  Though  much  to  blame  in  this  affair, 
thou  too  hast  behaved  nobly.  Mayst 
thou  be  blessed  in  domestic  life,  and 
trifle  no  more  with  the  feelings  of  poor 
girls;  not  even  with  those  whom  others 
have  betraye(^  and  deserted." 

Luckily,  the  girl  had  sufficient  pre- 
sence of  mind  to  assume  a  false  name 
when  arrested ;  by  which  means  her 
true  name  was  kept  out  of  the  news- 
papers. 'I  did  this,'  said  she,  '  for  my 
poor  mother's  sake.'  With  the  money 
given  by  Lord  Henry,  the  silk  was  paid 
for,  and  she  was  sent  home  to  her  mo- 
ther, well  provided  with  clothing.  Her 
name  and  pfece  of  residence  remain  to 
this  day  a  secret  in  the  breast  of  her 
benefactor. 

Several  years  after  the  incidents  I 
have  related,  a  lady  called  at  Friend 
Hopper's  liouse  and  asked  to  see  him. 


friendship's  token;  63 

When  he  entered  the  room,  he  found  a 
handsome  dressed  young  matron,  with 
a  blooming  boy  of  five  or  six  years  old. 
She  rose  to  meet  him,  and  her  voice 
choked  as  she  said,  '  Friend  Hopper, 
do  you  know  me?'  He  rephed  that  he 
did  not. — She  fixed  her  tearful  eyes 
earnestly  upon  him,  and  said,  '  You 
once  helped  me  when  in  great  distress.' 
But  the  good  missionary  of  humanity 
had  helped  too  many  in  distress,  to  be 
able  to  recollect  her,jwiihout  more  pre- 
cise information.  With  a  tremulous 
voice,  she  bade  her  son  go  into  the  next 
room,  for  a  few  minutes ;  then  drop- 
ping on  her  knees  ;  she  hid  her  face  in 
his  lap  and  sobbed  out,  '  I  am  the  girl 
that  stolt  the  silk.  Oh,  where  should 
I  now  be  if  it  had  not  been  for  you  ?' 

When  her  emotion  was  somewhat 
calmed,  she  told  him  that  she  had  mar- 
ried a  highly  respectable  man,  a  Sena- 
tor of  his  native  State.  Having  a  call 
to  visit  the  city,  she  had  again  and 


PHILIPENA,    OR 


again  passed  Friend  Hopper's  house, 
looking  wistfully  at  the  windows  to 
catch  a  sight  of  him ;  but  when  she 
attempted  to  enter,  her  courage  failed. 
'  But  I  go  away  to-morrow,'  said  she, 
'and  I  could  not  leave  the  city,  without 
once  more  seeing  and  thanking  him 
who  saved  me  from  ruin.'  She  recalled 
her  Httle  boy,  and  said  to  him,  'Look^ 
at  that  old  gentleman,  and  remember 
him  well ;  for  he  was  the  best  friend 
your  mother  ever  had.'  With  an  ear- 
nest invitation  that  he  would  visit  her 
happy  home,  and  a  fervent '  God  bless 
you,'  she  bade  her  benefactor  farewell. 


1 

friendship's  token.  65 


Flowers. 

Flowers  for  the  humble  poor, 
Flowers  for  the  we:ik  and  lone; 

Let  tliini  frently,  pently  fiill. 
AVhere  the  weeds  ortoil  are  sown; 

Littiiig  up  loid  discontent, 

From  the  lonely  tenement. 

As  the  tUintiiiH  toilers  there 

Catch  a  breath  of  heaven's  air. 

Flowers!  lay  them  by  the  bed, 

\Vhere  the  restless  sick  are  lying. 
Let  their  freshness  heal  the  air, 

Wouniled  by  the  Jiiiderer's  sighing; 
Let  his  eye  a  moment  rest 
■\Vhere  its  seeing  may  be  blessed, 
Ere  they  minarle  their  sweet  breath 
\\  ith  the  heavy  one  of  Death. 

Flowers  from  the  rich  and  proud ! 

Lay  them  in  the  costly  room 
Where  Art's  thick  luxuriant  air 

May  from  Nature  c^ifch  perfirme, 
And,  like  whispering  Angels,  start 
I'ity  in  llie  rich  man's  heart — 
Pity  for  some  humble  one, 
"Who  offlowers  and  fruit  hath  none. 

Fl(Avers !  for  each  one  of  earth. 

Under  and  Hl)ove  the  sod. 
That  the  dead  may  sweeter  sleep 

And  the  livinj:  think  of  God, 
When  we  from  our  walks  of  Sin, 
Sec  where  his  soft  steps  have  been, 
Leaving  these  to  liless  our  eyes. 
As  a  glimpse  of  Paradise. 


66 


PHILIPENA,    OR 


BIARBYING  FOR   MONEY, 


There  is  a  gray-haired  gentleman  in 
New  York,  a  retired  merchant,  whose 
bland  and  hearty  countenance  may  be 
seen  e'/ery  fair  day,  in  Broadway, 
through  the  window  of  his  carriage,  as 
he  takes  his  airing.  There  is  nothing 
ostentatious  about  his  equipage — none 
of  that  labored  display,  unfortunately 
characteristic  of  too  many  in  New  York. 
He  does  not  ape  the  habits  of  a  foreign 
aristocracy,  by  attiring  his  servants  in 
liveries ;  and  his  carriage,  though  evi- 
dently of  costly  manufacture,  is  so  bar- 
ren of  tinsel,  and  of  so  unpretending  a 
construction,  that  the  passer  by,  as  his 
eye  falls  in  the  midst  of  the  ambitious 
'turn  outs,'  so  numerous  in  Broadway, 
would  never  suspect  ifs  occupant  to  be 
master  of  unbounded  wealth — capable 


friendship's  token.  67 


of  buying  up,  body  and  soul,  nine  hun- 
dred and  ninety-nine  ol'  the  bedizened 
and  bewiskered  aspirants,  who  dash  by 
him.  as  he  leisurely  rumbles  along,  in 
their  flashy,  gingerbread  vehicles. 

He  is  often  accompanied  by  his  wife 
and  daughter  ;  the  former  reserving  in 
the  wane  of  hfe,  traces  of  loveliness ; 
the  latter  in  the  dawning  lustrous  beau- 
ty. The  dress  of  those  ladies  corres- 
ponds with  the  elegant  simplicity,  that 
test  of  true  elevation  and  real  gentility, 
which  we  have  remarked  upon  as  dis- 
tinguishing the  husband  and  father. 
The  jewels  they  wear  are  few  and 
tasteful ;  and,  in  their  plain  and  becom- 
ing attire,  they  do  not  make  their  bodies 
locomotive  milliners'  signs,  nor  tell  a 
tale  by  extravagance  of  outreness  of 
display,  that  conscious  deficiency  in 
mental  superiority,  that  would  make  a 
parade  of  the  covering  alone,  for  the 
emptiness  within  it. 

This   gentleman  came   to   the    city 


68  PHILIPENA,    OR 

when  a  young  man,  a  poor  adventurer. 
He  left  his  father's  humble  fireside  in 
the  country,  with  a  blessing  and  a  pack 
of  clothes,  and  with  a  five  dollar  note 
in  his  pocket — all  that  he  was  worth  in 
the  world — he  turned  his  steps  towards 
New  York ;  ignorant  of  mankind — of 
the  thousands  seeking,  like  himself,  a. 
livelihood,  who  congregate  in  this  moral 
whirlpool — but  full  of  expectation — of 
hope — of  determination — of  energy. 
It  was  distant  several  days'  travel,  but 
he  did  not  greatly  diminish  his  scanty 
funds,  for  the  farmer's  door  at  which 
he  applied  at  nightfall  was  ever  open 
to  receiv-e  him;  and  a  few  hours  of 
labor,  the  succeeding  day,  requited — 
for  he  would  have  scorned  to  have  ac- 
cepted of  charily — the  hospitality  ex- 
tended to  him.  He  sought  a  mean, 
cheap  lodging-house,  when  at  last  he 
trod  with  eager  foot  the  streets  of  the 
city;  and  although  wondering  curiosity 
was  awake,  he  wasted  no  time  in  idle 
J 


FRIENDSHIP'S    TOKEN. 


ness,  but  seduously  employed  himself 
in  seeking  occupation. —  Appearances 
are  deceitful,  and  it  is  dangerous  to  put 
failh  in  them ;  but  the  merchant  who 
listened  to  Jacob  Flagg's  story,  and 
taking  the  honesty  depicted  in  his  face 
as  an  endorsement  of  its  truth,  made 
liim  his  porter,  never  had  reason  to  re- 
gret it. 

For  four  years  he  was  a  faithful  ser- 
vant; diligent,  industrious,  honest,  fru- 
gal. Closing  his  duties  soon  after 
nightfall,  his  evenings  were  his  own; 
and.  by  the  light  of  his  lamp,  he  de- 
voted them  to  the  improvement  of  his 
mind.  At  the  end  of  four  years,  with 
what  he  had  saved  from  his  earnings, 
and  some  little  assistance  from  his  em- 
ployer, he  opened  a  small  shop  in  an 
obscure  street,  wherein  he  vended  a 
small  stock  of  dry  goods.  From  the 
beginning  he  succeeded.  And  the  ma- 
jority may  succeed  in  precisely  the 
same  way.     Whatsoever  one's  income 


70  PHILIPENA,    OR 

may  be,  however  trifling,  let  him  Hve 
within  it,  and  he  is  even  then  prosper- 
ing ;  and,  to  prosper  in  a  great  city, 
iVugaHty  never  finds  itself  at  fault. 
Subsistence  and  a  home  may  be  pro- 
cured, meeting  to  any  quality  of  means ; 
and  he  who  casts  false  pride  out  of 
doors,  and  indulges  rather  in  that  more 
ennobling  satisfaction,  the  consciousness 
that  he  is  wronging  no  fellow-being  by 
unjust  self-iudulgence,  is  laying  a  foun- 
dation for  prosperity,  that  nothing  can 
shake ;  though  the  goods  of  earth  may 
gather  slowly,  the  soul  will  be  heaping 
up  treasures.  Extravagance  is  a  com- 
parative term ;  and  he  who,  with  an 
income  of  a  few  hundreds,  exceeds  its 
bounds  in  his  expenditures,  is  more  so 
than  the  possessor  of  millions,  whose 
hand  scatters  thousands  upon  thousands 
from  his  revenue.  Jacob  Flagg  had  a 
little  something  left  of  his  first  year's 
gains,  and  a  yet  larger  sum  at  the  close 
of  the  second — tenfold  after  the  third. 


friendship's  token.  Vl 

As  his  condition  improved,  he  cau- 
tiously and  advisedly  improved  his  mode 
of  living.  He  removed  to  a  more  gen- 
teel boarding  house — and  then  a  better 
still — ever  careful,  however,  not  to  de- 
ceive himself  and  run  ahead  of  duty. 

The  second  change  was  rife  with 
momentous  influences  upon  his  destiny  ; 
for  there  boarded  in  the  same  house  a 
widow  and  her  daughter,  the  last  an 
heiress,  worth  a  thousand  dollars  !  This 
widow,  named  Watkins — not  her  real 
name,  by  the  bye,  for  on  our  veracity 
we  are  telling  a  true  story,  and  it  might 
give  offence  to  be  too  particular — was 
net  overstocked  with  it.  and  piqued  her- 
self as  much  on  her  slender  jointures 
and  the  thousand  dollars  Helen  was  to 
possess  on  her  wedding  day,  as  though 
her  hundreds  had  been  thousands,  and 
her  daughter's  thousand  a  million. — 
Helen  was  sensible,  very  sensible,  and 
resisted,  in  a  good  degree,  the  unhappy 
influences  of  her  mother's  weakness; 


72  PUILIPENA.    OR 

but  niosl  women,  not  being  conversant 
with  business,  do  not  appreciate  the 
vahie  of  money;  and  it  is  not  amazing 
that  Helen,  when  it  was  constantly  a 
theme  of  exnitation  and  pride  wifJi  her 
mother,  should  imagine,  at  leas/,  her 
thousand  dollars — a  fortune, 

Flagg.  after  a  lime,  loved  her — loved 
her  with  liis  vvliole  heart,  and  was  ten- 
derly loved  in  return.  He  had  always 
determined,  with  an  honest  pride,  never 
to  fall  in  love  with  a  woman  who  had 
money;  it  should  never  be  cast  into  his 
teeth  by  his  wile's  grumbling  relations, 
'  that  he  was  supported  by  her,'  and 
there  are  few  who  will  accuse  him  of 
swerving  from  ln"s  principles,  although 
he  did  love  Helen  VVatkins,  and  she 
had  a  thousand  dollars. 

He  married  her  ;  and  on  the  wedding 
day,  pursuant  to  her  father's  will,  the 
tliDUsand  dollars  were  placed  in  P^lagg's 
liniids.  Doi'iir  as  he  thought  .best  for 
their  mutual  advantage,  he  invested   it 


friendship's  token. 


in  his  business,  and  instead  of  dashing 
out.  with  an  estabhshment,  remained  at 
the  boarding  house.  A  loving  bride 
tiiinks  httle  for  money,  of  anything  but 
love  and  happiness  ;  and  Helen  never 
spoke  of  the  thousand  dollars. — Flagg 
furnished  her  with  money  sufficient  for 
her  wants,  and  indeed,  for  her  desires 
— the  engrossment  of  her  thoughts 
otherwise  limited  her  wishes.  But 
when  a  year  had  gone  by,  she  often 
asked  for  articles  of  dress  or  luxury — 
luxury  to  them — which  her  husband 
could  not  afford  to  give,  and  gently, 
but  resolutely  denied  her.  ''  It  is  very 
strange,"  thought  Helen  to  herself, 
"that  when  he  has  all  that- thousand 
dollars  of  mine,  he  won't  let  me  have 
what  I  want."  Her  mother  fostered 
these  complaining  thoughts,  and  on  an 
occasion  when  she  had  set  her  heart  on 
something  which  he  refused  to  pur- 
chase, she  ventured  to  vent  her  disap- 
pointment in  reproaches  ;  and  referred 


74  PHILIPENA,    OR 

to  the  tliousand  dollars,  which  she  was 
sure  she  ought  to  be  at  liberty  to  spend, 
since  it  was  all  her  own.  Flagg  was 
astonished — indignant;  but,  restraining 
himself,  kindly  reasoned  with  her,  and 
represented  to  her  how  paltry  a  sum  in 
reality  a  thousand  dollars  was,  and  how 
long  ago  it  would  have  been  exhausted, 
had  it  been  in  her  own  possession,  by 
the  procurements  of  half  the  articles  she 
had  sohcited.  But  her  pride  prevented 
her  from  listening  with  calmness,  and 
she  only  gathered  enough  of  his  expla- 
nation to  excite,  in  her  marked  judg- 
ment, the  suspicion  that  it  was  only  given 
to  excuse  himself  for  his  meanness. 

In  a  short  time  the  thousand  came  up 
again — and  again  ;  the  last  time  imme- 
diately after  breakfast.  Flagg  could 
bear  it  no  more.  Without  a  rejoinder  he 
suddenly  left  his  house.  His  wife  saw 
that  he  was  more  than  ordinarily  moved 
— that  his  face  wore  a  startling  expres- 
sion, and,  regretful,  penitent,  and  alarm- 


friendship's  token.  75 


ed,  she  called  earnestly  and  tearfully 
for  him  to  return.     But  it  was  too  late  ! 

It  was  a  sullen,  stormy,  wintry,  chilly 
day,  when  Flagg  left  his  home  that 
morning :  it  was,  too,  at  the  very  cli- 
max of  those  mercantile  crises  when 
the  rich  feel  poor,  and  the  poor  beggars ; 
and,  breasting  the  storm  bravely  thus 
far,  he  had  congratulated  himself  that, 
in  a  few  days  he  should  be  safe,  and 
his  fortune  golden  forever.  How  bitter 
were  his  sensations  as  he  came  down 
Broadway  that  morning,  splashing 
through  the  rain!  He  loved  Helen 
dearly — he  knew  she  loved  him.  Their 
days  were  all  happiness,  save  that  de- 
stroyed by  this  one  foible  ;  and  let  come 
what  would,  he  determined  to  give  her 
a  '  lesson  that  should  last  the  rest  of 
her  life.' 

He  did  not  return  to  dinner.  Helen 
waited  for  him,  and,  robbed  by  her 
anxiety  and  remorse  of  her  appetite, 
would  not  go  down  herself,  but  sat  all 


/b  PHILIPENA,    OR 

the  afternoon  looking  from  the  window 
into  the  deserted  and  dreary  street, 
weeping  sometimes  as  though  her  heart 
would  break.  When  day-light  had 
nearly  gone,  and  she  began  to  strain 
her  eyes  to  distinguish  objects  without, 
slie  discovered  him  approaching.  She 
could  not,  she  dare  not,  go  to  meet  him  ; 
but  when  he  opened  the  door,  she  could 
not  repress  a  shriek  at  the  haggard ness 
of  his  countenance.  He  came  to  her 
side,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said,  in  a 
voice  broken  by  exhaustion  and  emo- 
tion, while  he  extended  with  the  other 
hand  a  roll  of  bank  notes: 

"Helen,  there  are  your  thousand 
dollars;  I  have  encountered  toil  and 
anguish,  and  pain  enough  to  get  them 
for  you,  in  these  dreadful  times  ;  but  I 
have  resolved,  and  would  not  be  disap- 
pointed. Take  them  ;  do  with  them  as 
you  like,  and  we  will  be  wholly  happy, 
for  you  never  can  reproadi  me   niore." 

"No,  no:    not  for    the   world!"  sob- 


friendship's  token.  77 


bed  Helen,  sinking  on  her  knees  in 
shame:  "Oh,  husband,  forgive  me!  I 
shall  never  be  guilty  again  !  "  He  was, 
however,  resolute;  and,  well  knowing, 
from  his  character,  that  what  he  had 
determined  on  as  a  proper  course  he 
would  never  swerve  from,  she  dismissed 
the  subject,  and  they  were  afterwards 
indeed  happy.  He  never  asked  to  what 
purpose  she  had  appropriated  the  thou- 
sand dollars,  but  it  was  plain  enough 
that  she  expended  it  neither  for  dress 
nor  ornament.  If  anything,  she  was 
more  frugal  than  ever,  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  question  her  wants  and  wishes, 
when  he  was  disposed  to  gratify  them, 
as  he  was  liberal  and  free,  as  soon  as 
his  prosperity  would  authorize  it. 

Reader,  this  Flagg  is  the  same  hale 
old  fellow  whom  we  have  spoken  of  as 
riding  in  his  carriage  in  Broadway,  and 
that  wife  is  this  same  Helen.  That 
daughter  oh,  I  can  tell  a  story  of  her! 
She   is  to  he   married   next  week   to  a 


78  PHILIPENA,    OR 

young  man  not  worth  a  penny — who 
loves  her,  and  cares  not  a  pin  for  her 
father's  money,  confiding,  as  he  does, 
in  his  own  energies — which  the  old 
gentleman  took  care  to  make  sure  of 
before  he  gave  his  consent.  As  to  that 
thousand  dollars,  it  has  been  accumu- 
lating these  twenty  years,  has  been 
added  constantly  to  by  the  mother,  and 
now  a  good  round  sum — we  have  it 
from  good  authority,  at  least  twenty 
thousand — will  be  a  gift  to  the  daughter 
on  the  marriage  day ;  but  we  warrant 
youj  she  will  hear  the  whole  story  of 
the  '  thousand  dollars,'  and  be  warned 
not  to  suspect  an  honest,  high-minded, 
loving  man,  of  marrying  for  money. 


friendship's  token.  79 


The  Bride. 


Fair  Girl !  there's  radiance  on  thy  brow— 
There's  fl;ushing  in  that  thoughtful  eye — 

Like  some  pure  beam  thou  seemest  now, 
Plucked  from  the  lustres  of  the  sky. 

The  mingled  tints  of  mom  and  eve, 
The  glowing  bloom  of  clouiUess  day, 

Seem  o'er  thy  form  their  lights  to  weave. 
And  cluster  in  one  living  ray. 

Sweet  bridal  Love  and  Purity  I 

Hallowed  of  Heaven  and  Hope,  and  Truth  I 
Lady  l  such  joys  attend  on  thee, 

And  crown  the  nuptials  of  thy  youth  1 

Farewell  the  past  l  The  future  glows 

Upon  the  azure  of  thy  heart ; 
Woes  be  on  him— deep,  utter  woes— 

Who  bids  that  Promise-vow  depart. 


80  PHILIPENA,    OR 


A  GOOD  DAUGHTER. 


A  GOOD  (laughter!  There  are  other 
ministers  of  love  more  conspicuous  than 
her,  but  none  in  which  a  gentler,  love- 
Uer  spirit  swells,  and  none  to  which  the 
heart's  warm  requitals  more  joyfully 
respond.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
comparative  estimate  of  a  parent's  love 
for  one  or  another  child.  There  is  little 
which  he  needs  to  covet,  to  whom  tlie 
treasure  of  a  good  child  has  been  given. 
But  a  son's  occupation  and  pleasures 
carry  him  more  abroad,  and  he  resides 
more  amongst  temptation,  which  hardly 
permits  the  affection  that  is  following 
him,  perhaps  over  half  of  the  globe,  to 
be  wholly  uruningled  with  anxiety,  until 
the  time  when  he  comes  to  relinquish 
the  shelter  of  his  father's  roof  for  one 


friendship's  token.  8J 


of  his  own ;  while  a  good  daughter  is 
the  steady  light  of  her  parent's  house. 
Her  idea  is  indissolubly  connected  with 
that  of  his  happy  fireside.  She  is  his 
morning  sunlight,  and  his  evening  star. 
The  grace,  vivacity,  and  tenderness  of 
her  sex  have  their  place  in  the  mighty 
sway  which  she  holds  over  his  spirit. 
The  lessons  of  recorded  wisdom  which 
he  reads  with  her  eyes,  come  to  his 
mind  with  a  new  charm  as  blended  with 
the  beloved  melody  of  her  voice.  He 
scarcely  knows  weariness  which  her 
song  does  not  make  him  forget,  or  gloom 
which  is  proof  against  the  young  bright- 
ness of  her  smile.  She  is  the  pride  and 
ornament  of  his  hospitality,  and  the 
gentle  nurse  of  his  sickness,  and  the 
constant  agent  \n  those  nameless,  num- 
berless acts  of  kindness,  which  one 
chiefly  cares  to  have  rendered  because 
they  are  unpretending,  but  expressive 
proofs  of  love.    And  then  what  a  cheer- 


82  PHILIPENA,    OR 

lightener  of  her  mother's  cares !  What 
an  ever-present  delight  and  triumph  to 
a  mother's  affections  !  Oh,  how  httle 
do  these  daughters  know  of  the  power 
which  God  has  committed  to  them,  and 
the  happiness  God  would  have  them 
enjoy,  who  do  not,  every  time  that  a 
parent's  eye  rests  upon  them,  bring  rap- 
ture to  a  parent's  heart !  A  true  love 
will  almost  certainly,  always  greet  their 
approaching  footsteps.  That  they  will 
hardly  ahenate.  But  their  ambition 
should  be,  not  to  have  it  a  love  merely, 
which  feelings  implanted  by  nature  ex- 
cite, but  one  made  intense  and  overflow- 
ing, by  approbation  of  worthy  conduct; 
and  she  is  strangely  blind  to  her  own 
happiness,  as  well  as  undutiful  to  them 
to  whom  she  owes  the  most,  in  whom 
the  perpetual  appeals  of  parental  disin- 
terestedness do  not  call  forth  the  prompt 
and  full  echo  of  filial  devotion. 


83 


DAUGHTER  LEAVING  HOME, 


Marriage  is  to  women  at  once  the 
happiest  and  saddest  event  of  her  hfe  ; 
it  is  the  promise  of  future  bliss,  raised 
on  the  death  of  all  present  enjoyment. 
She  quits  her  home — her  parents — her 
companions — her  amusements — every 
thing  on  which  she  has  hitherto  depend- 
ed for  comfort — for  affection — for  kind- 
ness— for  pleasure.  The  parents  by 
whose  advice  she  has  been  guided — the 
sister  to  whom  she  has  dared  to  impart 
the  every  embryo  thought  and  feeling 
— the  brother  who  has  played  with  her, 
by  turns  the  counselor  and  the  counsel- 
ed— and  the  younger  children,  to  whom 
she  has  hitherto  been  the  mother  and 
the  playmate — all  are  to  be  forsaken  at 
one  fell  stroke — every  former  tie  is 
loosened — the  spring  of  every  action  is 
to  be  changed ;  and  yet  she  flies  with 


84  PHILIPENA,    OR 


joy  in  the  untrodden  paih  before  her ; 
buoyed  up  by  the  confidence  of  requited 
love,  she  bids  a  fond  and  grateful  adieu 
to  the  life  that  is  past,  and  lurns  with 
excited  hopes  and  joyous  anticipation 
of  the  happiness  to  come.  Then  wo  to 
the  man  who  can  blight  such  fair  hopes 
— who  can  treacherously  lure  such  a 
heart  from  its  peaceful  enjoyment,  and 
the  watchful  protection  of  home — who 
can,  coward-like,  break  the  illusions 
which  have  won  her,  and  destroy  the 
confidence  which  love  had  inspired. 
Wo  to  him  who  has  too  early  withdrawn 
the  tender  plant  from  the  props  and 
stays  of  moral  discipline  in  which  she 
has  been  nurtured,  and  yet  make  no  ef- 
fort to  supply  their  places ;  for  on  him  the 
responsibility  of  her  errors — on  him  who 
has  first  taught  her,  by  his  example, 
to  grow  careless  of  her  duty,  and  then 
expose  her,  with  a  weakened  spirit,  and 
unsatisfied  heart,  to  the  wide  storms  and 
the  wily  temptations  of  a  sinful  world. 


friendship's  token.  85 


WORTH  AND  WEALTH, 

OR, 

THE    CHOICE    OF    A  WIFE. 


"  And  so  you  intend  to  marry  Lucy 
Warden — eh  !  Harry.  What  on  earth 
has  put  you  in  such  a  notion  of  that 
girl?"  said  Charles  Lowry  to  his  friend 
Harry  Bovven,  as  they  sat  together 
cracking  almonds  after  dinner. 

"And  why  not  marry  Lucy  War- 
den?" said  his  friend. 

'•Why?  oh  !  because  she's  not  worth 
a  sous  ;  and  besides,  I  have  heard  she's 
the  daughter  of  a  bricklayer.  You 
know,  anyhow,  that  her  mother  kept  a 
little  dry  goods'  store  until  an  uncle  left 
Mrs.  Warden  that  annuity  on  which 
they  now  just  manage  to  subsist." 

"  A  formidable  array  of  evils,  indeed, 
but  still  they  do  not  dishearten  me. 
As  for  money,  I  do  not  look  for  it  in  a 


86  PHILIPENA,    OR 


wife,  because  I  should  never  feel  inde- 
pendeiil  if  I  was  indebted  to  a  bride  for 
my  bread.  Besides,  an  heiress  is  gene- 
rally educated  in  such  expensive  habits 
that  it  requires  a  fortune  to  satisfy  her 
luxurious  wishes.  As  a  mere  money 
matter  of  business,  this  marrying  for 
money  is  nine  times  out  often  a  losing 
speculation.  You  are  forced  to  live  ac- 
cording to  your  wife's  former  style,  and 
being  thus'  led  into  expenses  which 
your  income  will  not  afford,  you  too 
often  end  by  becoming  bankrupt.  Then, 
too  late,  you  discover  that  your  wife  is 
fit  only  for  a  parlor ;  she  becomes  peev- 
ish, or  wretched,  or  sick,  and  perhaps 
all  together.  Domestic  felicity  is  at  an 
end  when  this  occurs — " 

''But  her  birth?" 

"Ai^till  more  ijonsensical  objection. 
It  is  one  of  the  prejudices  of  the  old 
colonial  times,  and  was  imported  from 
England  hy  the  servile  adorers  of  rank, 
who  instead  of  being  like  themselves, 


friendship's  token.  87 

drones  in  the  public  hive,  earned  their 
bread  fairly.  It  is  this  latter  class  to 
which  our  country  is  indebted  for  its  sub- 
sequent prosperity — a  prosperity  which 
not  all  the  aristocrats  of  Europe  could 
have  bestowed  upon  it.  The  revolution, 
while  it  made  us  politically  equal,  did 
not  destroy  this  social  aristocracy.  The 
same  exclusiveness  prevails  now  as 
then,  but  with  even  more  injustice,  for  it 
is  opposed  to  the  whole  spirit  of  our  re- 
pubhcan  institutions.  Nor  is  this  all; 
the  prejudice  itself  is  ridiculous.  How 
can  people  who  scarcely  know  their  an- 
cestors beyond  one  or  two  generations, 
and  whose  blood  has  been  derived  from 
every  nation  and  occupation  on  the 
globe,  talk  with  any  propriety  of  birth? 
— Why,  there  is  scarcely  a  man  or 
woman  of  our  acquaintance,  who  is  not 
an  example  of  this  piebald  ancestry. 
Take,  for  instance,  Walter  Hastings, 
who,  you  know,  boasts  of  his  family. 
I  happen  to  know  all  about  him,  for  he 


PHILIPENA,    OR 


h  a  second  cousin  to  myself.  His  father 
made  a  fortune  and  married  into  our 
family.  But  who  was  he  1  The  son 
of  a  German  redemptioner.  Hastings' 
mother,  it  is  true,  is  the  grand-daughter 
of  an  Enghsh  baron,  and  the  sister — a 
far  higher  glory — of  a  signer  of  our 
Declaration  of  Independence.  Such  is 
a  fair  sample  of  our  best  families. 
Why,  I  would  undertake  to  furnish  from 
the  ancestry  of  any  of  tiiem,  cither  a 
peasant  or  a  peer,  either  a  laborer  or  a 
drone.  Birth,  forsooth  !  The  only  per- 
sons who  boast  of  it  in  this  country  are 
those  who  have  the  least  claim  even  to 
an  honest  parentage  ;  and  the  noisiest 
pretender  I  ever  met  with  was  the  grand- 
son of  a  fellow  who  was  hung  fifty  years 
ago  for  forgery." 

"  Well,  you  are  really  getting  quite 
low  in  your  notions,  Harry — where,  in 
the  world,  did  you  pick  up  such  vulgar 
notions  ?  You,  a  gentleman  and  a  law- 
yer, to  marry  such  a  girl !  She's  pretty 


friendship's  token.  89 


enough,  I  grant — amiable,  no  doubt — 
can  sing  and  draw  passably,  and  makes, 
I  hear,  a  batch  of  bread,  or  does  dirty 
house  work  as  well  as  a  common  kitchen 
girl.  But  perhaps  that  is  what  you  want 
her  for  ?" 

"  Your  sneer  aside,  yes  !  It  is  because 
Lucy  Warden  is  a  good  house-keeper, 
that  I  intend  to  marry  her.  Not  that  I 
would  have  a  bride  only  because  she 
could,  as  you  say,  make  abatchofbread. 
Education,  amiability,  a  refined  mind, 
and  lady-like  manners  are  equally  neces- 
sary. But  a  knowledge — and  a  prac- 
tical one,  too, — of  house-keeping,  is  no 
shght  requisite  in  a  good  wife.  I  know 
such  knowledge  is  scarce  among  our 
city  ladies,  but  that  is  the  very  reason 
why  I  prize  it  so  highly.  Believe  me, 
refinement  is  not  incompatible  with  this 
knowledge." 

"  Pshaw,  Harry ;  but  granting  your 
position,  what  is  the  use  of  such  know- 
ledge ?"  j 


90  •     PHILIPENA,    OR 


"It  is  of  daily  use.  Servants  will 
always  impose  on  a  mistress  who  knows 
nothing  of  her  duties  as  the  domestic 
head  of  the  houee.  You  are  an  im- 
porter ;  but  how  long,  think  you,  would 
you  prosper,  if  you  left  everything  to 
the  care  of  clerks,  who  would  naturally 
take  advantage  of  your  carelessness  to 
fleece  you?  A  mistress  of  a  house 
ought  to  oversee  her  establishment  in 
person.  This  she  cannot  do,  unless,  to 
use  a  mercantile  phrase,  she  understamis 
her  business.  If  she  does  not  do  this, 
nothing  will  be  done.  The  whole  evil 
arises  from  the  desire  of  our  women  to 
ape  the  extravagance  of  the  English 
female  nobility,  whose  immense  wealth 
allows  them  to  employ  substitutes  to 
oversee  their  domestic  establishments. 
But  even  had  we  incomes  of  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  dollars,  we  could  not 
carry  out  the  plan,  owing  to  the  total 
absence  of  good  servants  of  this  charac- 
ter in  our  country ;  and  in  this  opinion 


friendship's  token.  91 

I  am  borne  out  by  Combe  and  Hamil- 
ton, two  of  the  most  observant  and  just 
of  English  travelers." 

"Weil,  Harry,  you  were  born  for  a 
barrister,  or  you  would  not  run  on  so 
glibly.  But  it's  a  shame  that  a  gentle- 
man who  might  command  the  choice  of 
the  market,  and  marry  the  richest  heir- 
ess in  Walnut  street,  should  throw 
himself  away  upon  a  girl  without  a 
sixpence.  Now  there  are  Charlotte 
^Thornbury  and  her  sister,  co-heiresses, 
— why  can't  you  take  the  one,  and  I  the 
other?" 

"Merely  because  I  love  another. 
You  smile ;  but  despite  the  sneer,  I  am 
a  believer  in  love.  Of  Charlotte,  I 
have  nothing  to  say,  except  that  she  is 
beautiful.  You  know  how  often  we 
have  discussed  the  matter.  I  only  hope 
she  will  make  you  a  good  wife." 

"  AUoiis  !  the  ladies  are  awaiting  us. 
You  and  I  will  never,  on  this  question, 
asrree." 


92  PHILIPENA,    OR 


The  foregoing  conversation  has  given 
our  readers  a  pretty  accurate  idea  of 
the  young  men  to  whose  acquaintance 
we  have  introduced  them.  Henry 
Bowen  was  a  young  lawyer,  with  a 
small  annual  income,  but  of  what  is 
called  an  unimpeachable  family.  This, 
with  his  acknowledged  talents,  would 
have  procured  for  him  the  hand  of 
many  a  mere  heiress,  but  he  had  wisely 
turned  away  from  them  all,  and  sought 
a  companion  in  one  without  fame  or  for- 
tune, but  who,  in  every  requisite  for  a 
good  wife,  was  immeasurably  their 
superior. 

Charles  Lowry,  on  the  contrary,  was 
a  dashing  young  merchant,  who,  by  dint 
of  attention  in  the  counting  house,  could 
afford  to  be  luxurious  in  his  style  of 
living.  He  had  imbibed  many  of  the 
false  notionsof  fashionable  society,  and 
among  others  the  idea  that  a  wife  was 
indispensable.  His. sole  object  was  to 
secure  an  heiress,  as  much  for  the  eclat 


friendship's  token.  93 

of  the  thing  as  for  her  fortune,  though 
this  latter  was  no  sHght  temptation  to  a 
young  merchant.  And  he  had  finally 
succeeded.  Amid  a  host  of  rivals,  he 
had  won  the  prize.  Need  we  say  that 
Charlotte  Thornbury,  the  beautiful,  the 
gay,  but  the  careless  heiress,  was  the 
guerdon? 

The  two  friends  were  married  in  the 
same  week.  The  one  took  his  wife  to 
a  small  but  convenient  house  in  one  of 
our  less  fashionable  streets,  wiiile  the 
other  entered  at  once  into  a  splendid 
mansion  in  Walnut  street,  whose  furni- 
ture and  decorations  were  the  theme  of 
general  envy  and  admiration.  The  one 
bride  kept  but  a  single  servant,  the  other 
had  several.  Yet  the  mansion  of  Mrs. 
Lowry.  though  always  magnificent,  was 
never  tidy,  while  the  quiet  home  of  Mrs. 
Bovven  was  a  pattern  of  neatness  and 
elegance.  The  young  merchant  never 
went  home  without  finding  that  his  wife 
had  been  out  all  day,  either  shopping  or 


94  PHILIPENA,    OR  ! 

making  calls,  and  was  in  consequence 
tired  and  silent,  or  perhaps  out  of  hu- 
mor ;  while  the  young  lawyer  always 
found  a  neat  dinner  and  a  cheerful  wife 
to  welcome  him.  As  for  Charles,  he 
had  always  sneered  at  love,  and  having 
married  from  motives  of  vanity  and  in- 
terest a  woman  whose  mind  he  despised, 
he  had  nothing  of  sympathy  with  her, 
nor  was  it  long  before  he  found  her 
society  irksome.  When  the  toils  of  the 
counting-house  were  over  he  went  home, 
because  it  was  the  custom,  but  not  be- 
cause he  expected  to  derive  any  plea- 
sure from  the  conversation  of  his  vain 
and  flippant  wife.  He  was  glad  when 
the  season  commenced,  with  its  round  of 
dissipation,  because  then  he  found  some 
relief  in  attending  the  fashionable  en- 
tertainments of  his  own  or  wife's  ac- 
quaintance. Since  his  marriage  he 
had  never  enjoyed  a  single  hour  of  real 
domestic  felicity. 
How  different  was  the  wedded  life  of 


95 


Henry  and  his  bride.  All  through  the 
business  of  the  day,  the  recollection  of 
his  sweet  wife's  greeting  cheered  the 
young  lawyer  on  in  his  labors.  And 
when  evening  came,  and  he  had  closed 
his  office  for  the  day,  how  smilingly, 
and  in  what  neat  attire  would  Lucy  pre- 
side at  the  tea-table,  or,  after  their  meal 
had  been  disposed  of,  bring  out  her 
work-stand,  and  sew  at  something,  if 
only  at  a  trifle  for  a  fair,  while  Henry 
read  to  her  in  his  rich,  mellow  voice. 
And  then  sometimes  they  would  sit  on 
the  sofa,  and  talk  of  a  thousand  plans 
for  the  future,  when  their  income  should 
be  extended,  or  if  it  was  in  summer, 
they  would  stroll  out  for  a  walk,  or  call 
upon  some  of  their  few  intimate  friends. 
"  Dear  Henry,"  said  Lucy,  one  even- 
ing to  her  husband,  as  they  sat  talkmg 
together  after  tea,  "  how  worried  Mr. 
Lowry  looks  of  late.  I  think  he  must 
be  in  bad  health.     How  glad  I  am  you 


or.  PHILIPENA,    OR 

are  always  well.  I  know  not  what  I 
should  do  if  you  were  sick." 

"  May  that  day  be  long  averted,  my 
own  Lucy,"  said  the  husband,  as  he 
kissed  her  pure  brow,  "  but  I  have 
noticed  something  of  the  same  kind  in 
Lowry,  and  have  attributed  it  to  the 
cares  of  business.  His  wife  is  a  wo- 
man you  know,  who  could  do  little  to 
alleviate  a  husband's  weariness," 

"  Oh,  how  can  she  be  a  wife,  and  not 
wish  to  soften  her  husband's  cares  ?  In- 
deed, if  you  only  look  the  least  worried, 
I  share  your  trouble  until  your  brow 
clears  up." 

"  And  it  is  that  which  makes  me  love 
you  so  dearly,"  said  the  husband,  as  he 
pressed  her  to  his  bosom.  "Ah,"  he 
continued  to  himself^  "  if  Charles  saw 
me  to  night,  I  wonder  whether  he  would 
not  envy  me  ! " 

That  evening  there  was  a  brilliant 
party  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Lowry,  who 
was  smiling  upon  the  guests  in  all  the 


friendship's  token.  97 


elation  of  gratified  pride.  Never  had 
she  appeared  more  happy.  But  even 
the  envied  mistress  of  the  revel  was  not 
without  her  cares.  One  or  two  favorite 
guests  whom  she  invited  did  not  come, 
and  she  coukl  not  help  over-hearing 
some  of  the  ill-natured  remarks  of  some 
of  her  neighbors.  Her  only  gratifica- 
tion was  in  hstening  to  the  flatteries  of 
others  of  her  visitors,  who  were  either 
more  fawning  or  more  deceitful.  At 
length,  however,  the  entertainment  was 
over,  and  wearied  and  dispirited,  she 
paused  a  moment  in  the  deserted  parlors 
before  retiring.  Her  husband  was  there. 
'"Well.  Mrs.  Lowry,"  said  he  with 
a  yawn,  "so  this  grand  aifair  is  over  at 
length,  and  a  pretty  penny  it  has  cost, 
I  do  not  doubt."  Charles  had  latterly 
found  that  his  income  was  frightfully 
beneath  his  expenses,  and  had  began  to 
wish  his  bride  less  extravagant, — "  but 
why  did  you  purchase  these  new  otio- 
mans — and  these  candelabra,  and  that," 


9S  PHILIPENA,    OR 

and  here  he  used  an  oath,  "  expensive 
set  of  mirrors?  I  told  you  the  old  ones 
were  good  enough,  and  here,  when  I 
come  home,  I  find  you  have  purchased 
them,  in  defiance  of  my  orders.  Why, 
madam,  an  Earl's  fortune  would  not 
sustain  you  in  your  extravagances." 

"  And  whose  fortune,  I  wonder,  buys 
these  things,"  said  the  passionate  beau- 
ty ;  "  you  would  not  let  me  have  the 
common  comforts  of  life  if  you  could 
have  your  way." 

"  Pshaw,  madam,  none  of  your  airs. 
But  I  tell  you,  this  extravagance  I 
neither  can  nor  will  submit  to  it." 

"  You  are  a  brute,"  said  the  wife, 
"  so  you  are.  Do  you — can  you  think," 
she  continued,  bursting  into  tears,  "  I'd 
ever  have  married  you,  when  I  might 
have  had  so  many  better  husbands,  if  I 
had  thought  you  would  have  used  me 
in  this  way  ?  " 

"  Well,  madam,  so  you  have  got  up 
a  scene,"  coolly  said  the  husband,  "  all 


friendship's  token.  99 


I  wish  is,  that  you  had  married  some 
one  of  your  other  suitors." 

"  You  do  ! — you  insult  me — I  won't 
hve  with  you  a  day.  Oh,  that  I  should 
be  abused  in  this  way,"  and  the  now 
really  wretched  woman  burst  into  a 
fresh  flood  of  tears. 

'•  As  you  please,  madam." 

But  we  omit  the  rest  of  this  scene, 
which  ended  in  a  fit  of  hysterics  on  the 
part  of  the  wife,  and  a  volley  of  curses 
on  that  of  the  husband.  The  difficulty 
was  the  next  day  made  up  by  the  newly- 
married  couple;  from  this  time  their 
altercations  were  frequent  and  bitter. 
Charles  began  to  think,  as  his  old  friend 
had  told  him,  that  there  was  a  great 
differeace  betwixt  marrying  for  love  or 
money. 

Three  years  passed.  At  the  end  of 
that  time,  how  altered  were  the  circum- 
stances of  Charles  and  his  friend. 

The  expenses  of  his  establishment 
had  increased  upon  the  former,  until  his 


100  PHILIPENA,    OR 

tbrlnne  not  on\y  staggered,  but  gave 
way  under  the  pressure,  and  after  seve- 
ral ineffectual  attempts  to  retrieve  by 
speculations,  which,  ending  abortively, 
only  increased  his  embarrassments, 
Charles  found  himself  upon  the  brink 
of  ruin. 

In  these  circumstances  he  found  no 
consolation  in  the  sympathy  of  his  wife. 
She  upbraided  him  with  the  loss  of  her 
fortune,  fogetting  how  much  she  had 
squandered  of  it  in  her  fashionable 
amusements.  Their  altercations,  more- 
over, increased  in  frequency  ever  since 
the  incident  we  have  recorded  above, 
until  Charles,  unable  to  find  even  quiet 
al  his  own  fireside,  sought  relief  at  the 
club.  Hither  was  he  led.  moreover,  by 
the  desire  of  retrieving  his  misfortunes, 
which  were  siill  unknown  to  the  worhi, 
and  he  trusted  that  by  a  lucky  chance 
he  might  place  himself  in  security. 
Vain  hope  !  How  many  deluded  victims 
have  indulged  in  the  same  delusions  be- 


friendship's  token.  101 

fore  !  His  course  from  that  hour  was 
downward.  He  became  a  gambler — 
he  neglected  all  business — he  lost — his 
engagements  failed  to  be  met — and  in 
a  few  weeks  he  was  a  bankrupt. 

Meantime  the  husband  of  Lucy  had 
been  steadily  gaining  in  reputation,  and 
increasing  his  business,  so  that  at  the 
end  of  the  third  year  the  young  couple 
were  enabled  to  move  into  a  larger  and 
more  elegant  house,  situated  in  a  more 
desirable  quarter.  This  change  of  loca- 
tion materially  strengthened  the  busi- 
ness of  the  young  attorney ;  he  became 
known  as  one  of  the  rising  young  men, 
and  he  looked  forward  with  certainty  to 
the  speedy  accumulation  of  a  compe- 
tency. 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  father," 
said  Lucy  one  evening  to  her  husband, 
as  he  came  in  from  a  day's  hard  work, 
"concerning  poor  Mrs.  Lowry  or  her 
husband  1" 


102  PHILIPENA,    OR 


"  Yes,  my  love,"  said  he,  "  and  it  is 
all  over." 

"  What !  has  anything  alarming  hap- 
pened?" said  Lucy,  anxiously. 

"  Sit  down,  dearest,  and  don't  trem- 
ble so,"  said  her  husband,  and  I  will  tell 
you  the  whole  of  the  melancholy  story. 

"After  his  bankruptcy  last  week, 
some  days  elapsed  before  anything  was 
known  of  the  place  to  which  my  unfor- 
tunate friend  had  gone.  It  was  sup- 
posed at  first  that  he  had  fled  with  what 
funds  he  could  lay  his  hands  on.  This 
was  the  more  credible  from  the  igno- 
rance of  his  wife  as  to  whither  he  had 
gone.  She,  cold-hearted  thing,  seemed 
to  care  little  for  his  loss,  but  appeared 
to  be  chiefly  aflfected  by  her  deprivation 
of  fortune.  She  even  upbraided  her 
husband  publicly  ;  and  it  is  said  when 
some  forgeries  which  he  had  perpetrat- 
ed were  discovered,  and  a  strict  search 
set  on  foot  after  the  criminal,  she  went 
so  far  as  to  hope  he  might  be  taken  and 


friendship's  token.  103 

brought  to  condign  punishment.  But 
you  know  they  never  lived  happy  to- 
gether." 

"Well,  every  attempt  to  trace  the 
fugitive  failed,  when  intelligence  was 
brought  to  the  city  this  morning,  that  a 
dead  body  answering  to  the  description 
of  that  of  Mr.  Lovvry,  had  been  washed 
ashore  a  few  miles  down  the  river. 
You  may  well  look  alarmed,  for  the 
intelligence  was  too  true.  It  was  the 
body  of  my  poor  friend.  It  is  supposed 
that  grief,  shame  at  his  bankruptcy, 
and  perhaps  remorse  for  his  crime,  led 
him  to  commit  suicide.  Poor  fellow  ! 
his  sad  fate  may  be  traced  to  his  ill- 
suited  marriage.  He  chose  a  woman 
whose  extravagance  always  out-strip- 
ped her  fortune,  and  who,  from  having 
brought  him  wealth,  considered  him  be- 
neath her.  He  did  not  know  the  differ- 
ence in  a  wife,  between  Worth  and 
Wealth." 


104  PHILIPENA,    OR 


The  Rose  Bud. 

The  rose  bud  that  you  gave  me,  lovOi 

Beneath  Hie  lintel  vine, 
Althoiiirh  it  lades  in  other's  eyes, 

Uniiided  seems  in  mine  ; 
No  common  tlower  it  seems  to  me, 

On  sunshine  ted  and  dew- 
By  ottiers  reared,  by  others  viewed. 

Then  iducked  at  lust  by  you. 

But  *tis  linked  in  thoufrht  with  you,  love, 

With  you  and  only  you. 
As  if  it  in  your  i)osom  chaste 

Amon?  the  lilies  grew  ; 
As  if  It  in  your  liosom  grew. 

Oh,  gentle  maid  and  fair- 
Grew  close  upon  your  nursing  heart. 

And  fed  its  beauty  there. 

And  you  pressed  it  to  your  lips,  love, 

The  nii-'hl  you  gave  it  me— 
And  thence,  I  deem,  its  lile,  its  sweets, 

Its  dcathlesij  bloom  must  be  ; 
It  drew  itjs  vermeil  from  ytiur  lips— 

'Tis  fragrant  with  your  breath — 
It  lives  upon  that  balmy  kiss 

That  gives  it  life  in  death. 

But  \\'t)ieij  see  best  who  deem,  love, 

If  sear  and  yellow  grows, 
Ml  tell  you  why  the  lite  and  bloom 

Have  left  the  withered  rose; 
The  (lower  upon  my  heart  has  lain. 

And  my  heart  has  drawn  aw;iy 
The  life,  the  swcet.s  it  drew  from  yours 

What  time  on  yours  it  lay. 


105 


Congenial  Spirits. 

Oh,  in  the  varied  scenes  of  life, 

Is  there  a  joy  so  sweet, 
As  when  amid  its  busy  strife 

Congenial  Spirits  meet? 

Feelings  and  thoughts,  a  fairy  band 
Long  hid  from  mortal  sight. 

Then  start,  to  meet  the  master  hand, 
That  calls  them  into  light. 

When  turning  o'er  some  gifted  page, 

How  fondly  do  we  pause, 
That  dear  companion  to  engage 

In  answering  applause. 

And  when  we  list  to  music's  sigh, 
How  sweet  at  every  tone. 

To  read  within  another's  eye, 
The  rapture  of  our  own. 


106  PHILIPENA,    OR 


The  Interval  Flower, 

I  know  of  a  sweet  wild-flower, 

Thai  blossoms  in  its  pride, 
Where  through  the  lowly  interval 

The  silver  waters  glide ; 
Tis  where  by  chance  I  often  rove 

At  twilight's  silent  hour; 
And  often  do  I  stop  to  gaze 

Upon  this  meadow  flower. 

It  does  not  fide  as  ot  her  flowers, 

But  ever  blossoms  fair ; 
For  where  it  spreads  its  golden  leaves 

'Tis  always  summer  there — 
And  as  the  seasons  roil  around. 

And  r.hiiling  frosts  arise, 
I  love  to  ^o  and  breathe  where  blooms 

This  flowret's  paradise  I 

I've  often  thought  how  I  would  love 

To  pluck  it  from  its  stem, 
And  press  its  petals  to  my  heart, 

And  never  part  with  them  ; 
Rash  thought !  shall  such  presumptuous  wish 

Within  this  bosom  rest? 
To  tear  it  from  its  lovely  bed 

To  fade  upon  my  breast  1 

I  know,  too,  thou'rt  a  proud  flower, 

And  mightest  spurn  my  touch; 
But  yet  (or  that,  my  blfjoming  one, 

I  prize  the  more  by  much  I 
Some  love  the  modest  Violet, 

That  blossoms  by  thy  side; 
But  give  me  the  gay  Carnation 

With  its  splendor  and  its  pride  I 


friendship's  token.  107 

^ 

I've  said  thou  art  a  fair  flower, 

And  others  say  it  too ; 
But  none  thy  brilliant  beauties  o'er 

With  fondest  gaze  will  view- 
Full  many  a  flower  I've  seen,  as  I 

Have  roamed  at  even-tide, 
But  never  one  so  fair  as  that 

Which  decks  the  river's  side. 

And  sure  thou  art  a  sweet  flower, 

As  e'er  in  meadow  sprung ; 
And  bahny  is  thy  rich  perfume 

As  that  Irom  Eden  flung  I 
Come,  yield  thy  pride,  and  let  me  once 

Those  lovely  petals  kiss; 
'Twould  plant  a  sunbeam  in  my  heart 

Ofever-during  bliss  1 

Thou  wilt  not  be  a  lone  flower, 

When  I  am  far  away, 
For  others  will  continue  still 

Where  I  have  strayed,  to  stray; 
But  e'er  a  bright  spot  in  my  life 

Will  the  remembrance  be, 
That  I  have  walked  the  interval 

And  fondly  gazed  at  thee. 


108  PHILIPENA,    OR 


THE  TWINS. 


"  I  tell  it  to  you  as  'twas  told  to  me." 

"  In  the  fiutumn  of  18—,  I  had  occa- 
sion to  visit  the  town  of  N ,  beauti- 
fully situated  on  the  western  bank  of 
the  Connecticut  river.    My  business  led 

me  to  the  house  of  B ,  a  lawyer  of 

about  three-score  and  ten,  who  was  now 
resting  from  the  labors  and  enjoying  the 
fruits  of  a  life  strenuously  and  success- 
fully devoted  to  his  profession.  His 
drawing-room  was  richly  furnished  and 
decorated  with  several  valuable  paint- 
ings. There  was  one  among  tliem  that 
particularly  attracted  my  attention.  It 
represented  a  mother  with  two  beauti- 
ful children,  one  in  either  arm,  a  light 
veil  thrown  over  the  group,  and  one  of 
the  chihlren  pressing  its  lips  to  the 
cheek  of  its  mother.  *  That,  said  I, 
pointing  to  the  picture,  'is  very  beauti- 


friendship's  token.  109 


ful.  Pray,  sir,  what  is  the  subject  of  it  V 
'  It  is  a  mother  and  her  twins,'  said 
he;  'the  picture  in  itself  is  esteemed 
a  fine  one,  but  I  value  it  more  for  the 
recollections  which  are  associated  with 

it.'     I  turned  my  eye  upon  B ;  he 

looked  communicative,  and  I  asked  him 
for  the.  story.  'Sit  down,'  said  he, 
'and  I  will  tell  you  it.'  We  accord- 
ingly sat  down,  and  he  gave  the  follow- 
ing narrative : 

'During  the  period  of  the  war  of 
the  revolution,  there  resided  in  the 
western  part  of  Mas-^achusetts,  a  far- 
mer by  the  name  of  Siedman.  He  was 
a  man  of  substance,  descended  from  a 
very  respectable  English  family,  well 
educated,  distinguished  for  great  firm- 
ness of  character  in  general,  and  alike 
remarkable  for  inflexible  integrit.  and 
steadfast  loyalty  to  his  king.  Such  was 
the  reputation  he  sustained,  that  even 
when  the  most  violent  antipathies 
against  royalism  swayed  the  commu- 


110  PHILIPENA,    OR 

nity,  it  was  sti 
that  farmer  Stedman,  though  a  tory, 
was  honest  in  his  opinions,  and  firmly 
believed  them  to  be  right. 

'  The  time  came  when  Burgoyne 
was  advancing  from  the  north.  It  was 
a  time  of  great  anxiety,  with  both  the 
friends  and  foes  of  the  revolution,  and 
one  which  called  forth  their  highest 
exertions.  The  patriotic  militia  flocked 
to  the  standard  of  Gates  and  Stark, 
while  many  of  the  tories  resorted  to 
the  quarters  of  Burgoyne  and  Baum. 
Among  the  latter  was  Stedman,  He 
had  no  sooner  decided  it  to  be  his  duty, 
than  he  took  a  kind  farewell  of  his 
wife,  a  woman  of  uncommon  beauty, 
gave  his  children,  a  twin  boy  and  girl, 
a  long  embrace,  then  mounted  his  horse 
and  departed.  He  joined  himself  to 
the  unfortunate  expedition  of  Baum, 
and  was  taken,  with  other  prisoners  of 
war,  by  the  victorious  Stark. 

"  He  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his 


friendship's  token.  Ill 


name  or  character,  which  were  both 
soon  discovered,  and  he  was  accordingly- 
committed  to  prison  as  a  traitor.  The 
jail  in  which  he  was  confined  was  in 
the  western  part  of  Massachusetts,  and 
nearly  in  a  ruinous  condition.  The  far- 
mer was  one  night  waked  from  his 
sleep  by  several  persons  in  his  room. 
'Come,'  said  they,  'you  can  now 
regain  your  liberty  ;  we  have  made  a 
breach  in  the  prison,  through  which 
you  can  escape.'  To  their  astonish- 
ment, Stedman  utterly  refused  to  leave 
the  prison.  In  vain  they  expostulated 
with  him ;  in  vain  they  represented  to 
him  that  his  life  was  at  stake.  His 
reply  was,  that  he  was  a  true  man,  and 
a  servant  of  King  George,  and  he  would 
not  creep  out  of  a  hole  at  night  and 
sneak  away  from  the  rebels,  to  save 
his  neck  from  the  gallows.  Finding  it 
altogether  fruitless  to  attempt  to  move 
him,  his  friends  left  him  with  some  ex- 
pressions of  spleen. 


112  PHILIPENA,    OR 

"  The  time  at  length  arrived  for  the 
trial  of  the  prisoner.  Tiie  distance  to 
the  place  where  the  court  was  sitting 
was  ahout  sixty  miles.  Stedman  re- 
marked to  the  sheriff,  when  he  came  to 
attend  him.  that  it  would  save  some 
expense  and  inconvenience,  if  he  could 
be  permitted  to  go  alone  and  on  foot. 
'And  suppose.'  said  the  sheriff,  'that 
you  should  prefer  your  safety  to  your 
honor,  and  leave  me  to  seek  you  in  the 
British  camp  ?'  '  I  had  thought,'  said 
the  farmer,  reddening  with  indignation, 
'  that  I  was  speaking  to  one  who  knew 
me.'  '  I  do  know  you,  indeed,'  said 
the  sheriff ;  'I  spoke  but  in  jest;  you 
shall  have  your  way.  Go,  and  on  the 
third  day  I  shall  expect  to  see  you  at 
S .'  ♦  *  *  The  farmer  depart- 
ed, and  at  the  appointed  time  he  placed 
himself  in  the  iiands  of  the  sheriff 

"I  was  now  engaged  as  his  counsel. 
Stedman  insisted  before  the  court,  upon 
teUing   his  whole   story;  and,  when   I 


friendship's  token.  113 


would  have  taken  advantage  of  some 
technical  points,  he  sharply  rebuked 
rae,  and  told  me  that  he  had  not  em- 
ployed me  to  prevaricate,  but  only  to 
assist  him  in  telling  the  truth.  I  had 
never  seen  such  a  display  of  simple  in- 
tegrity. It  was  atfeciing  to  witness  his 
love  of  holy,  unvarnished  truth,  elevat- 
ing him  above  every  other  considera- 
tion, and  presiding  in  his  breast  as  a 
sentiment  even  superior  to  the  love  of 
life.  I  saw  the  tears  more  than  once 
springing  to  the  eyes  of  the  Judges ; 
never,  before  or  since,  have  I  felt  such 
an  interest  in  a  client.  I  pleaded  for 
him  as  I  would  have  pleaded  for  my 
own  life.  I  drew  tears,  but  I  could  not 
sway  the  judgment  of  stern  men,  con- 
trolled rather  by  a  sense  of  duty  than 
the  compassionate  promptings  of  hu- 
nianity.  Stedman  was  condemned.  I 
told  him  there  was  a  chance  for  pardon, 
if  he  would  ask  for  it.  I  drew  up  a  peti- 
tion, and  requested  him  to  sign  it,  but 

8 


114  PHILIPENA,    OR 

he  refused.  'I  have  done,'  said  he, 
'  what  I  thought  my  duty.  I  can  ask 
pardon  of  my  God  and  my  king,  but  it 
would  be  hypocrisy  to  ask  forgiveness 
of  these  men  for  an  action  which  I 
should  repeat  were  I  placed  again  in 
similar  circumstances.  No !  ask  me 
not  to  sign  that  petition.  If  what  you 
call  the  cause  of  American  freedom 
requires  the  blood  of  an  honest  man  for 
the  conscientious  discharge  of  what  he 
deemed  a  duty,  let  me  be  its  victim. 
Go  to  my  judges,  and  tell  them  that  I 
place  not  my  fears  nor  my  hopes  in 
them.'  It  was  in  vain  that  I  pressed 
the  subject ;  and  I  went  away  in  despair. 
"In  returning  to  my  house,  I  acci- 
dentally called  on  an  acquaintance,  a 
young  man  of  brilliant  genius,  the  sub- 
ject of  a  passionate  predilection  for 
painting.  This  led  him  frequently  to 
take  excursions  into  the  country,  for 
the  purpose  of  sketching  such  objects 
and  scenes  as  were  interesting  to  him. 


friendship's  token.  115 

From  one  of  these  he  had  just  returned. 
I  found  him  silting  at  his  easel,  giving 
the  last  touches  to  the  picture  which 
attracted  your  attention.  He  asked  my 
opinion  of  it,  'It  is  a  fine  picture,' 
said  I ;  '  is  it  a  fancy  piece,  or  are  they 
portraits  ?'  '  They  are  portraits,'  said 
he, '  and  save  perhaps  a  little  embellish- 
ment, they  are,  I  think,  striking  por- 
traits of  the  wife  and  children  of  your 
unfortunate  chent,  Stedman.  In  the 
course  of  my  rambles  I  chanced  to  call 

at  "his  house   in  H .     I  never  saw 

a  more  beautiful  group.  The  mother 
is  one  of  a  thousand,  and  the  twins  are 
cherubs.'  '  Tell  me,'  said  I,  laying  my 
hand  on  the  picture — 'tell  me,  are 
they  true  and  faithful  portraits  of  the 
wife  and  children  of  Stedman?'  My 
earnestness  made  my  friend  stare.  He 
assured  me  that  they  were,  so  far  as  he 
could  be  permitted  to  judge  of  his  own 
productions.  I  asked  no  further  ques- 
tions ;  I  seized  the  picture,  and  hurried 


116  PHILIPENA,    OR 


with  it  to  the  prison  where  my  client 
was  confined.  I  found  him  sitting,  his 
face  covered  with  his  hands,  and  ap- 
parently wrung  by  Iteen  emotion.  I 
placed  the  picture  in  such  a  position 
that  he  could  not  fail  to  see  it.  I  laid 
the  petition  on  the  little  table  by  his 
side,  and  left  the  room. 

"In  half  an  hour  I  returned.  The 
farmer  grasped  my  hand,  while  the 
tears  stole  down  his  cheeks;  his  eye,^ 
glanced  first  at  the  picture,  and  th^B^tp*" 
the  petition.  He  said  nothing,  but 
handed  the  latter  to  me.  I  took  it,  and 
left  the  apartment.  He  had  put  his 
name  to  it.  The  petition  was  granted, 
and  Stedman  was  set  at  liberty." 


friendship's  token.  in 


Lrove's    Home. 

Oh,  love  i-s  but  an  exile  here 

Lamenting:  for  its  native  sky; 
His  brightest  smile  is  through  a  tear 
And  all  his  roses  bloom  to  die  I 
Too  so«n  They  lade, 
In  earth's  dark  shade: 
Reared  on  the  soil  ot' misery, 
Too  cold  for  Immortality. 

When  Love  had  made  himself  a  bower, 
And  nursed  it  with  his  kimllieot  rare. 
And  poured  his  tears,  a  wntle  shower. 
And  given  his  breath  of  purest  air. 
And  Hope  was  near, 
To  fill  his  ear 
With  promise  that  the  bower  should  be 
A  gift  of  Immortality — 
Then  Love  was  blest,  one  summer's  day— 

But  time  grew  envious  of  his  bliss, 
And  tore  his  bloomin?  wTeaths  away, 
Aud  blasted  ail  his  happiness- 
No  w  Love  must  roam, 
Without  a  home. 
Still  planting  flowers  to  see  them  die 
And  pine  for  Immortality. 

But  Faith  hath  built  another  home 

For  Love,  beyond  the  tourh  of  time  ; 
There  fadeless  plants  fi)rever  bloom 
Perennial  in  fair  Eden's  clime. 
No  spoiler's  breath. 
No  hand  of  Death 
Can  rearh  the  home,  where  Love  la  free, 
And  dwells  with  Immortality. 


118  PHILIPENA,    OR 


The  Coquette, 

Who  is  that  nripht  an<I  brilliant  girl, 

Among  the  gny  crowd  dancing, 
With  flowers  amid  her  {rolden  curls, 

And  jewels  on  her  {riancing? 
With  all  tliat  pomp  of  wealth  and  dress, 

With  all'thaf  charm  of  feature, 
Will  you  helieve  it,  when  I  say 

she's  but  a  worthless  creature. 

She  deems  that  human  hearts  were  made 

For  her  to  win  and  break  them  ; 
Her  charms  the  tiital  snares  she  spreads, 

To  tortue  and  to  take  them  ; 
Her  verj-  arflessness  is  art  1 

The  ruin  that  she  causes, 
Unlike  the  fiercest  conqueror. 

To  weep  she  never  pauses. 

To  one  she  gives  a  kindly  glance  • 

To  one  a  gentle  pressure ; 
Another  claims  the  wilbng  hand. 

To  tread  a  graceful  measure  ; 
One  asks  a  flower,  and  builds  up  hopes 

Upon  the  fading  treasure; 
She  immolates  them  on  her  shrine 

Of  vanity  and  pleasure. 

As  lovely  as  a  flower  is  she, 

But  poison's  in  her  dwelling; 
Her  voice  is  full  of  melody, 

A  syren  talc  'tis  telling: 


friendship's  token.  119 

The  lip  is  red,  the  hand  is  warm. 
The  cheek  like  summer's  blossom; 

But  oh,  she  bears  the  gamester's  heart 
Within  that  youthfuJ  bosom. 

I  can  forgive  the  gorgeous  queen, 

Who  in  an  hour  of  pleasure. 
Placed  in  her  cup  the  eastern  pearl. 

And  drank  the  costly  treasure; 
But  bitter  sentence  for  the  maid. 

Who  for  amusement  merely, 
Dissolves  the  dre;im  of  happiness 

Of  one  that  loves  her  dearly. 

Oh  loveliness,  the  fairy  spell 

That  o'er  youth's  brow  is  wreathing  I 
Art  never  can  compare  with  thee. 

The  moving  and  the  breathing; 
Exert  thy  power  to  turn  the  heart 

To  deeds  of  worth  and  duty; 
And  have  a  nobler  end  in  view 

Than  her's,  the  heartless  beauty. 


120  PHILIPENA,    OR 


The  Maiden's  Ringlet. 

Here  is  a  little  golden  tress 

Of  soft  iipbniided  hair, 
The  all  that's  ielt  of  loveliness 

That  once  was  thoutrht  so  fair; 
And  yet,  though  time  has  dimmed  its  eheen, 

Thouirh  all  beside  hath  fled, 
1  hold  ii  tiere.  a  link  between 

The  living  and  the  dead. 

Yes,  from  this  shining  ringlet  still 

A  mourn  fill  memory  springs, 
That  melts  my  heart,  and  sends  a  thrill 

Through  all  its  trembling  strings. 
1  think  ofher,  the  loved,  the  wept, 

U|)on  whose  fbruhead  fair, 
In  youth's  gay  morn,  like  sunshine,  slept 

This  golden  curl  of  hiiir. 

0,  sunny  tress  I  the  joyous  brow 

VV^here  thou  didst  lightly  wave 
With  all  thy  sifter  tresses,  now 

Lie^i  cold  w'  hin  the  gravel 
That  cheek  i'  of  its  bUnmi  bereft, 

That  eye  r.o  more  is  gay; 
Of  all  tier  beauties  thou  art  left, 

A  solitary  ray. 

Seasons  have  piLssed,  lonir  years  are  Rone, 

Since  last  wo  fondly  met, 
Loiiy  years,  and  yd  ii  seems  too  soon 

To  let  the  heart  Ibrget-- 


friendship's  token.  121 

Too  soon  to  let  that  lovely  face 

From  my  sad  thoughu  depart 
And  to  another  give  the  place 

She  held  within  my  heart. 

Her  memory  still  within  the  mind 

Retains  its  sweetest  power; 
It  is  the  P'^rt'ume  left  behind, 

To  whisper  of  the  Hower. 
Each  blossom,  that  in  moments  gone 

Bound  up  this  sunny  curl. 
Recalls  the  form,  the  look,  the  tone 

Of  that  enchanung  girl. 

Her  step  was  like  an  April  rain 

O'er  bed.s  of  violets  flung ; 
Her  voice  the  prelude  lo  a  strain 

Before  the  song  is  sung. 
Her  lite  was  like  a  half  blown  flower, 

Closed  ere  the  shade  of  even, 
Her  death  the  dawn,  the  blushing  hour 

That  opes  the  gates  of  heaven. 

A  single  tress  I  how  slight  a  thing, 

To  sway  such  magic  art, 
And  bid  each  .soft  remembrance  spring 

Like  blo.ssoms  in  the  heart  1 
It  leads  me  back  to  early  days 

To  her  I  loved  so  long. 
Whose  eyes  beamed  like  the  diamond's  rays, 

Whose  Ups  o'erflowed  with  song. 

Since  then  I've  heard  a  thousand  lays 

From  lips  as  sweet  as  hers, 
Yei  when  I  strove  logive  them  praise, 

I  only  gavb  Uiem  tears. 


122  PHILIPENA,    OR 

I  could  not  bear,  amid  the  throng 
Where  jest  and  laughter  rung, 

To  hear  another  sing  the  song 
That  trembled  on  her  tongue. 

A  single  shining  tress  of  hair 

To  bid  suf.h  memories  start  I 
But  tears  are  on  its  lustre — there 

I  lay  it  on  my  heart. 
0  when  in  death's  cold  arms  I  sink, 

Who  then  with  gentle  care 
Will  keep,  as  a  memorial  link. 

A  ringlet  of  my  hair? 


friendship's  token.  123 


RULES    FOR    CONVERSATION. 

BY    THOMAS   JEFFERSON. 

1.  In  stating  prudential  rules  for  our 
government  in  society,  I  must  not  omit 
the  important  one  of  never  entering 
into  dispute  or  argument  with  an- 
other. 

2.  I  never  saw  an  instance  of  one  of 
two  disputants  convincing  the  other  by- 
argument.  I  have  seen  many  of  their 
getting  warm,  becoming  rude,  and  shoot- 
ing one  another. 

3.  Convincing  is  the  effect  of  our  own 
dispassionate  reasoning,  either  in  soli- 
tude or  weighing  within  ourselves  dis- 
passionately, what  we  hear  from  others, 
standing  uncommitted  in  argument  our- 
selves. 

4.  It  was   one  of  the   rules,   which 


124  PHILIPENA,    OR 

above  all  others,  made  Dr.  Franklin  the 
must  amiable  of  men  in  society,  "never 
to  contradict  any  body."  If  he  was 
urged  to  announce  an  opinion,  he  did  it 
rather  by  asking  questions,  as  for  infor- 
mation, or  by  suggesting  doubts. 

5.  When  I  hear  another  express  an 
opinion  which  is  not  mine,  I  say  to  my- 
self, He  has  a  right  to  his  oi)inion,  as 
I  to  mine;  why  should  1  question  it? 
His  error  does  me  no  injury,  and  shall  I 
become  a  Don  Q,uixotte,  to  bring  all  men 
by  force  of  argument  to  one  opin- 
ion 7 

G.  If  a  fact  be  misstated,  it  is  proba- 
ble he  is  gratified  by  a  belief  of  it,  and 
I  have  no  right  to  deprive  him  of  the 
gratification. 

7.  If  he  wants  information,  he  will 
ask  it,  and  then  I  will  give  it  in  mea- 
sured terms. 

8.  If  he  still  believes  his  own  story, 
and  shows  a  desire  to  dispute  the  fact 
with  me,  1  hear  him,  and  say  nothing. 


It  is  his  affair,  not  mine,  if  he  prefers 
error. 

9.  There  are  two  classes  of  dispu- 
tants most  frequently  to  be  met  with 
among  us.  The  first  is  of  young  stu- 
dents just  entered  the  threshhold  of 
science,  with  the  first  views  of  its  out- 
lines not  yet  filled  up  with  the  details 
and  modifications,  which  a  further  pro- 
gress would  bring  to  their  knowledge. 

10.  The  other  consists  of  the  ill-tem- 
pered and  rude  men  in  society,  who 
have  taken  up  a  passion  for  politics. 

1 1.  Good  humor  and  politeness,  never 
introduce  into  mixed  society  a  question 
on  which  they  foresee  there  will  be  a 
difference  of  opinion. 

12.  Be  a  listener  only,,  keep  within 
yourself,  and  endeavor  to  establish  with 
yourself  the  habit  of  silence,  especially 
in  politics.  In  the  present  fevered  state 
of  our  country,  no  good  can  ever  result 
from  any  attempt  to  set  one  of  these 
fiery  zealots  to  rights,  either  in  facts  or 


126 


PHILIPENA,    OR 


principles.  They  are  determined  as  to 
the  facts  they  will  believe,  and  the  opin- 
ions on  which  they  will  act. 

13.  Get  by  them,  therefore,  as  you 
would  an  angry  bull ;  it  is  not  for  a  man 
of  sense  to  dispute  the  road  with  such 
an  animaL 


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